King on the Mountain
by Mattora
Summary: The Story of young Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.
1. Second Moon of Autumn

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering year 2871-2941.  
**

**~Autumn 2871~**

_Darkness. Fire. Darkness. **Fire**. Darkness. **Fire. Fire. FIRE!**_

Thorin had not slept a night's worth in a long time, and he knew he never would rest peacefully again in his life. His ears, used to the clamor of a forge, hurt from the many noises of a cramped place, full of big folk, snoring and moaning and mumbling and turning. The blacksmith he had stayed with so long was a good man, considered he was big folk after all, and Thorin knew he should not leave his house like a thief. His art was not great, but solid, and he treated the dwarf with no little respect. But the time had come, and he could not wait for dawn to wake the men.

True, not all of the humans had forgotten about the might of the people under the as their lives waned, so did their memory, and after 101 years their memory was dim as an old bronze mirror. Sublimity and honor was merely a word to them now, toiling like animals in the blazing sun. How Thorin longed for the sweet cool and dark of his home, the magnificent halls of the Erebor, were his people were once safe and he knew happiness. Happiness – how long were it since he even thought of that word with regret? How bitter life had become for those who never had known hunger, cold, ridicule, shame before? The long march to Dunland murdered as many dwarfs as Smaug had, and the years to come would see many more of them die. Those who lived changed, nobles becoming farmers and blacksmiths, men of honor tinker and traders – wanderers without homes, settlers without roots, longing in life, longing in death for their lost home.

As Thorin swiftly stepped outside, his few belongings tied up in a woolen bag, the moon had not set yet, illuminating the valley of the Four Trees he was about to leave. He had always loved the woods, much the disdain of his father. Stone, not wood was a dwarf's nature, all the more of the dwarf was a king to be!

The dry grass was grayish with dust, and it would be many nights before Thorin see sweet waters, to wash himself and comb his raven hair, to be representable when visiting his younger sister.

Dís, sweet little sister, joy of his family, hair of gold and eyes of amber. If only he could give her a life worth of her preciousness! Suffering was her lot, yet she never complained. Not when the darkness took her home. Not when her feet and hands bled from long march and hard work. Not even when her girl child was stillborn during the great hunger, buried in a shallow grave and not a princess's gravesite. Thorin's eyes filled with tears of anger as he remembered all the grief Smaug had brought onto them, all the children never born, all the lives lost. He would return to the Erebor one day, and with him, all the dwarf of middle earth! No matter what the cost!

* * *

"Will he be here soon!?"

"Yes, he will my dear, soon."

Dís smiled at her impatient eldest son, who stared at the door never blinking, hoping to see his uncle approach despite the oaken wood locked twice. Twelve years old, bright as a red burning ore and madly in love with Thorin Oakenshield, prince under the mountain, son of Thráin II. Fíli had barely eaten or rested for three days, and if not for the promise of precise and pointed punishment, he long would have gone looking for his uncle in the hills of Dunland.

"Mother, mother, do you think he will teach me the sword? Will he? He promised so often!"

"I fear not my sparkling pyrite, he and your grandfather have many a thing to discuss..."

Not even Moria's great pit of darkness had know such depths as the little dwarf's heart plunged to, on hearing such. Little did he know of his mother's fears of losing her sons to sword and arrow and dragons. To him and his little brother nothing could be greater, than following their uncle Thorin to see and win back the myth-enshrouded Erebor, home even their mother barely recalled.

Kíli stirred in his sleep, tossing his wooden sword and blanket to the floor. He had not quite recovered from the stone fever yet, his hands still grayish and cool to Dís worried touch.

Her grandmother had still known the old way to cure such illness; but with her death this skill had left the people of the dwarfs. There never was such illness in the Erebor, therefore the ancient knowledge faded. Many a dwarf now deeply regretted their former haughtiness.

"Sister Dís?"

The dwarf princess could only guess how Thorin got past Fíli's alert eyes to surprise them, but a pleasant surprise was always welcome to her heart. The siblings shared a tender moment, before an impatient nephew demanded to be picked up and cherished my Thorin.

"How tall you have become! Fíli, are you not a dwarf I fear? Soon I'll have to send you to the big folks to keep you! No! To Giants!"

Thorin lifted his nephew high above his head with ease, whose delightful shrieks even woke his little brother from his deep slumber. Both Fíli and Kíli were way too small for their age, and it pained Thorin much to see how gaunt his kin were. Another failed crops, bad metal in the mountains, sickness - there never seemed to be an end to misery anymore!

"Will you eat with us, brother Thorin?"

Dís smiled warmly at him, guessing his pain. Candle light softened her deep wrinkles of sorrow, gentle as the colored hangings hiding the rough-worked walls of the cave, tactfully like torn rugs hiding the bare mud floor. It was a well meant invitation, but Thorin could not accept the gentle lies easing Dunland's exile. Not tonight.

"I'm sorry sister Dís, but first I shall speak to the elders."

"But brother-"

The dark, haunted look in his eyes silenced Dís.

"Do not wait for me."

Not even Fíli dared to question his uncle, seething in rage, whether and when he would return, as he returned into the darkness. For even the small dwarf boy knew, this night would be without rest for many dwarfs in the hills of Dunland.


	2. Last Moon of Autumn

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Last Moon of Autumn 2871 ~**

"He has not moved for hours!"

"_Shhhh_!"

"Maybe we just should walk up to him-"

"SHHH!"

"But Fíli-"

"I said_ SHHHHH_! He might _hear us_!"

It was hard for Thorin to keep from laughing out on his lonely lookout. He had come here, to the highest hill of Dunland, to be by himself and consider his plan, but his wish for solitude was soon put to an end by his squabbling nephews, hiding clearly visible nearby behind a rock of slate not 30 feet away.

"But he might be sick and-"

"_Oh Kíli_! WILL YOU BE- _Oh no, he __**heard us**__! __**Look what you did**_!"

No sooner had he spoken, as a shadow fell onto the young dwarfs. Fearfully the two brothers looked up to their towering uncle, his face stern, arms crossed in front of his iron breastplate. They knew their uncle's mood had been bilious ever since the noctural council of Dunland two weeks ago, and they had tried to not earn his wrath since then. While Fíli and Kíli were fairly sure their uncle would never mete unjust punishment to them, just punishment was bad enough.

"We are sorry uncle Thorin, we did not follow you-** it was his fault**!", they both cried in unison, making the elder dwarf burst out in laughter.

"Oh, you two are worse to keep than a pack of wargs! I should bind you in chains and leave you on top of this hill – well, if not for your mother. Come, let us go home Fíli, Kíli, before she shall punish me for keeping the two of you out in the cold till nightfall."

Relieved the two dwarf boys followed Thorin down the hill, picking up small branches on the way home to make themselves useful, hoping their mother to be as indulgent as their uncle for their absenteeism. Maybe, if they behaved themselves especially well tonight, she might let uncle Thorin unpack his sword!

* * *

"No brother, you shall not."

Her bright amber eyes glowered at Thorin, who could not recall ever seeing his little sister this angered. The fire had burned down, allowing the first cold of an early winter to seep into the cave.

"They need to learn to wield a sword, or they will die in-"

Dìs cut him off, her voice biting as the north wind.

"Or they will die? How dare you tell me, Thorin Oakenshield! You only want them to die with_ you_ - at the Erebor! That is why you want to teach my sons the sword and the warhammer and the bow – for you can't find any other dwarf to follow you into the madness of your mind!"

"ENOUGH!"

Thorin had risen from his seat, enraged by the dwarf woman's words.

"I love Fíli and Kíli more than I could ever love a child of my own! They are of my blood, they mean more to me than all the gold in the world, more than the Erebor! I'd rather die myself than see harm come to them - but shall I not wish for them to learn to fight and protect their lives and yours? Darker times are coming-"

"And it is you who will bring them to us!", Dís cried out.

Startled by her own words, she cover her mouth with her hands; for she had not meant to accuse her elder brother of such evil.

Thorin stared at her unbelieving, his face turning gray.

"What... Sister? So this is what I am to you? To you and all the dwarfs of Dunland? Nothing but misery and curses I bring to you? Claiming back our home – madness?"

For a moment he looked about to become wild with pain, but then he clenched his fists and headed for the door, his eyes dark with wrath and hurt.

"Brother! Wait! I beg you!"

Crying, Dís fell on her knees in front of her brother, blocking the door, her eyes filled with tears.

"Forgive me! I have spoken unjust – please, brother, stay! You mustn't leave your people- your family! Please!"

Thorin gently pulled his sister upright, his face becoming soft for a moment as he held her arms.

"Dear Dís, maybe you are right – maybe, you and your beloved sons can live lives in peace and prosperity in Dunland, forgetting all about our glorious homelands. Maybe I am a fool, out of my mind, wishing to return to the Erebror. Be still, do not cry for me Dís! I will not be gone for long, nor shall I leave my people behind. But let me go, back into the homeless wilderness, where other dwarfs may live and long to follow me home. Six moons from this night on, I shall return to you. And if I find not one dwarf willing to win back the Erebor – then I shall leave Dunland no more, and my heart shall be content. Will you bless me as I go, dear sister?"

Dìs dried her tears, but her eyes were still full of sorrow.

"Oh brother, why can you not stay here? Dwarfs have had to build many a new home in all the years since the fathers came to middle earth! Do not go through this door Thorin! What good is it, losing your life for an old, dead kingdom! Forget the gold and the Arkenstone! Remember your people, our beloved children! That is a dwarf's true treasure!"

Thorin's eyes remained cold despite his sister's pleading words.

"So without a blessing I go? Well then, tell Fíli and Kíli my love, sister, and farewell."

Dís words were lost in the howling wind as she called her brother to come back. The darkness welcomed the dwarf prince, becoming his companion once again, as the last autumn moon faded, a faint crescent in a starless sky.

* * *

Two dwarf boys lay in their bed, crying silently. The pain of eavesdropping such bad a parting, with an uncertain return was worse than the great hunger and the winter of frozen stone combined.

Sobbing Kíli whispered, "I wish I were dead! No more of this!"

His brother Fíli held him close, trying to soothe his younger brother.

"Kíli, stop crying. Next spring, we'll go with him! Just like this! He will return, and then, we shall not ever leave uncle Thorin's side again!"

The crying stopped.

"Really? We will go with him?"

Fíli smiled in the dark, nodding, "Yes. We will go with uncle Thorin. I promise."

Soon, both were fast asleep, dreaming of an adventurous spring to come.


	3. Second Moon of Winter

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Second Moon of Winter, 2871 ~**

The snow was pilling higher and higher, blocking the pass to the gate of Belegost. It had been many years since Thorin had last set foot in the halls of Belegost, and he was not eager to return there, be is this night or any to come. Evil voices and deceit lurked in the depth of the Blue Mountains, and the dwarf prince wondered if the malicious laughter of the old dwarf kings still echoed the mighty halls. It should have been his home, and rightfully, it still was part his father's kingdom - but there were but a handful of dwarfs of the Erebor to be found in Ered Luin anymore.

Almost 90 years ago, Thráin had led his people into the Blue Mountains, sure to be hailed as king under the mountain, and welcomed in great honors after their victorious battle of Azanulbizar.

But the dwarfs of Belegost were a proud and spiteful people, scorning gold and all the dwarfs who were willing to lose their life for treasure it. The dwarfs of the Erebor in return belittled the art of the Blue Mountain dwarfs, thinking their swords and armors inferior, boasting about their lost riches. In the end, the Blue Mountain dwarfs called their brothers g_ullrekin earh_ behind their backs, and many a murderous fight between cowards of gold and and mergers of iron took place below the mountain, before Thráin cursed the mountain and settled once again in Dunland with his people.

Thorin looked for an abandoned cave in the snow storm, his sword ready to strike whatever may lurk behind the rocks and trees. He had to hurry, for would not last the night without shelter. The cold was getting more severe still, but no home of men or dwarfs was to be found. The old mountains contained no precious ore or gems, not even iron worth forging, its brittle rocks giving away under the dwarfs heavy step – who would yearn to live in such a place?

But still, his sister Dís had loved the Blue Mountains, and thought forbidden to dwarf women, spent many a day wandering in broad daylight, unbeknownst of her elder brother watching over her. Was it back then, that she forgot the Erebor, settling for a lesser life in lesser lands? Thorin had never asked her before, and regretted his ignorance of so many things.

Carefully he followed a tunnel down into a warm darkness, mumbling apologies to the dead which rested close by. The stone fever had afflicted the Blue Mountains so often he wondered, why there still were any dwarfs left when he gave up this place twelve years ago.

Fíli had been a tiny newborn back than, and almost died on the long march back to Dunland; since that day, Dís' husband Eflí had not directed a friendly word at his father and brother in law.

Eflí was a proud Blue Mountain dwarf of little words, and not many Erebor dwarfs were pleased with the choice of their princess; even for a dwarf he was remarkably stubborn, only giving in to his wife. But still, he was a worthy husband and father – but he Thorin would never see another as brothers for all their differences.

The tunnel ended an impasse, rocks blocking the path, leaving Thorin no other option but head back to try another tunnel.

"Cursed mountains..." he muttered, as he slowly ascended into the cold again.

"Well, cursed is a bit harsh, isn't it? Maybe _unhappy_ would be better a word?"

Thorin squinted his eyes, trying to make out the source of the snickering words in the dark ahead – a dwarf, no doubt, but friend? Or Foe?

"Who is there! Show yourself!"

A small figure came round the bend of the tunnel, bearing a lantern and a familiar smile. Thorin laughed and put his sword back in the scabbard, hurrying towards the white-bearded dwarf with open arms.

"Balin! Old friend! How pleased I am to see you well!"

The greeting was short but heartfelt, as Balin hurried forward, knowing the dangers of the Blue Mountains well.

"Follow me! Quick! We have to leave before the show is closing the entrance!"

True enough, the tunnel was already partly blocked, the storm raging merciless in the ravines. Balin went ahead, only his lamp visible in the thick scurry of snow, his white coat and hair blending in with the storm like a mountain hare's fur. Exhausted they reached a rock shelter, protecting a tunnel leading doep into the mountains, where a fire was burning at the far end of a small cave.

Brushing the snow of his clothes, Thorin wondered, "As if you were expecting a visitor this night, Balin!"

The white-bearded dwarf smiled, pointing at two fur cots beyond the fire.

"I knew you were coming dear Thorin, but alas, I should have know you'd be late! You've never been on time all your life, have you?"

The raven haired dwarf grumbled, hanging his clothes to dry.

"How could you possibly know I was coming, for I have told no one where I'd wander! I can not possibly be late, if I was not expected! You're playing me a fool!"

Grinning happy, like a dwarf who knows his enemies will die in a horrible manner, Balin hung a small pot smelling deliciously over the fire.

"Words travel faster than you do, my prince – but first, tell me how things are in Dunland. I have not seen my people for twelve years; I pray they fared better than I have here!"

Thorin frowned, for he had not heard of any disaster to strike in the Blue Mountains; but he went to fulfill Balin's desire to hear of his people first.

* * *

"That's no way to hold a sword!"

"As if you knew _any _better!"

Angry Kíli threw his wooden sword on the ground, putting on his coat and pulling the hood close to his ears which were blue with cold. Day after day they were fighting with their wooden toys, wandering far from their mother's cave. If Dís was suspecting their sons of any out of the ordinary activities whilst collecting fire wood, she so far had not voiced her concerns, but they knew her scolding to be dreadful if she ever found out their swords play.

"It's no use Fíli! How are we supposed to teach ourselves how to fight! We have not even held a real sword in all out lives! Besides, it's cold, I want to go home."

The elder dwarf boy could not admit feeling the same hopelessness, even if ice crystals were forming on his blond hair and beard, and his toes were hurting from the cold in his thin boots. Stubbornly he picked up Kíli's sword and threw it at him

"A dwarf warrior does not simply give in because he's tired, or hungry, or does not possess a real sword! Now take your sword and-"

Fíli and Kíli froze in place as the hills echoed with a loud, fearsome noise. It was quick answered by another one, until all the hills of Dunland seemed to join in the howling.

"F- Fíli? Father said, there are no wolves anymore in the hills, right?"

Eyes wide with fear, his brother shook his head, trembling like an oaken leaf in winter winds.

"Oh Kíli, that is no pack of wolves..."

Faint gray shadows raced over the shallow ice covering the great bog, the chorus of hungry wails becoming louder and louder as they approached.

The wargs were returning to the hills of Dunland.


	4. Second Moon of Winter, Part 2

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Second Moon of Winter, 2871 ~**

* * *

Slithering down the hill, Fíli grabbed Kíli's hand, praying neither of them would lose their step on the icy grounds of the river bank. If only they had not wandered this far off! His little brother was already out of breath, only fear keeping him from breaking down; it could be mere moments until the wargs caught up with them, their huge bodies crushing through the copse they just left behind.

Not far away, smoke was rising from the caves of the dwarfs. Maybe, they could still make it, only a bit longer – but then, out of the corner of his eye, Fíli saw brown fur hurling towards them.

Kíli yelled as something heavy and cold brushing the top of his head. Trying to dodge, he lost his footing, dragging Fíli with him, as they tumbled down the hill and fell into the river.

Coughing and blinking, they tried to get up, their clothes soaked with freezing water. Fíli tried to get between his brother and the shore, intend on protecting his brother to the end, when he realized the huge warg on the riverbank was not moving at all. An axe stuck in it's forehead, and whilst the body was still twitching, the creature was already dead, slowing sinking to the ground, it's pack howling confused on top of the hill.

Fíli stared at the dead monster in awe, shivering and wondering what had saved them, as two hands grabbed him from behind, lifting him out of the waters. He could see the lips of the dwarf holding him move, but could not hear a word of what was said. The dwarf seemed to be very angry, frozen tears on his cheeks as he gently shook the dwarf child, before pressing it to his chest, sobbing.

"Father?", Fíli muttered, fighting the darkness that pulled him away from the cold. He dimly saw a dwarf with a black hood lifting his brother up from the waters, swiftly carrying him away, before he lost conciousness. He was no longer afraid, knowing they were saved, the grim howling fading away quickly.

* * *

"The hills are no place for dwarfs to live! We need to return to the mountains, son."

"Father, I will _not_ leave my wife behind. And this place is as good as any for a dwarf to live."

Kíli slowly opened his eyes, a familiar scent filling the small sleeping camber of the family. The smell of lignite could wake him from his deepest dreams and worst nightmares – for did it not meant his father was finally home from the mines once more! The dwarf boy tried to sit up, but found he could not move beneath the heap of fur and blankets covering him up to the tip of his nose. Fíli lay beside him, snoring softly, much to Kíli's relief. So they had indeed been saved by their father? Kíli wondered, for he had never known his father could wield battle axe and sword too. Was he not just a dwarf of the pick?

The two dwarf men had not noticed the boy waking up, and continued their agitated talk.

"Son, now the wargs have returned, it will be only a matter of time until they murder every dwarf in the hills- won't you see, as you almost lost your sons today! Come with me - and surely Dís will follow you back into the Blue Mountains! For she spent happy years there too!"

Eflí's smiled bitterly, his thick gray hair hiding most of his face.

"Dís is a princess of the Erebor. Sure. Yes, she loves the Blue Mountains more than the Erebor, whom she does not recall as home – but still, she loves her people most. Stubborn fools as they may be, she will not leave them to their own devices to die. And until their king does not lead them forth-"

"But their king is _gone_! When will these g_ullrekin earh_ accept, that Thráin is but bones and dust? _Thorin has to_-"

Gíflí had not heard his daughter-in-law approach, and was startled by her soft voice at the threshold.

"As long as there is no proof of Thráin's death, Thorin will not claim, what is not rightfully his."

The old dwarf loved the wife of his son like a daughter of his own despite her heritage, for she was a reasonable, strong woman; but oh, she could be stubborn, worse than his own wife had been!

"Dear Dís, your father Thráin, may he reside in golden halls, has been lost for more than ten years! Even if he were not dead, he'd be mad by now, driven insane by that cursed ring of-"

Dís words were spoken quietly, but silenced the bald dwarf more harshly than any shouting might have.

"It is true. Father was not himself, when he set out for the Erebor, and many wish my brother to become king under the mountain in his stead. But as long as no word, no proof of father Thráin's death has reached his family, it is impious to declare a new king."

Scratching his bald head, Gíflí tried to think of any other way to convince his son and daughter-in-law to leave the hills of Dunland. For soon it would too late to flee. This time, they had driven off the wargs with their axes and bows, losing no dwarf. But the wretched creatures would return in greater numbers, and worse beings would follow in their wake. And terrible their rage would be.

* * *

Balin shook his head sadly, listening to Thorin's tale of Dunland's dwarfs.

"I see, I see. Bad times, aren't they? ... But still, you will not lead them out of the hills to better lands, my prince?"

If he had not known and loved his friend Balin for a long time, Thorin would have been offended at his words; but the dwarf spoke truth, painful as it was. The Erebor dwarfs would not endure in the hills – but even if the right to rule were his, where but back home to Erebor could he lead them?

"It is not my place to led my people out of Dunland, for I will be no usurper king. And father had his reasons to leave the Blue Mountains – who am I to defy his will?"

Balin stirred the fire, musing. He had been young when the Erebor was lost, and the Blue Mountain paled in comparison to the mighty riches it possessed; but still, these mountains could be home for many dwarfs. And better than the Dunland hills they were for sure.

"Thorin, my prince, I deeply regret my inaptitude at serving your father. So let me be a better squire to you. Many a thing happened on our quest for the Erebor that was never told... I think now the time has come, for these dreadful occurrences to change fate for the better."

The prince frowned, wondering what tale Balin was about to tell him, and to what purpose. The white-bearded dwarf was a master of words, and cunning too - but he had never kept the truth from Thorin before. Thus the raven haired dwarf wondered, if he truly wished to hear the story of his father's last journey.

For it was no pleasant tale to be told.


	5. Second Moon of Winter, Part 3

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Second Moon of Winter, 2871 ~**

* * *

"Since we left the Blue Mountains and returned to Dunland, Thraín's mind had become more and more clouded, and soon I found out the reason behind his strange sickness. It was not the voices of the past kings of Ered Luin which had driven him away from the Mountains, but his father Thrór's ring of power, which was destroying him from the inside."

Thorin frowned, but did not question Balin's words about the precious heirloom. The younger dwarf had always been with his father since his coming of age, and was the king's squire on his last ride; he would not lie on his honor as dwarf of the Erebor.

"Thráin had been weary since the first winter in the hills, and not even his precious grandson could arouse his interest anymore. You had become a wanderer, and promised to return before the next snow, but your father did not once ask your whereabouts once you left the hills. Dís was worried about her father, seeing nothing but gold and silver pleased him anymore. Feasts, friends, even his family were indifferent to him, and as the spring of 2960 arrived, the king would sit on his throne for hours, staring at his ring of power in wonder, at times even speaking to it softly, as if it were a living being. His madness was growing like the weeds on the hills.

We were worried and prayed for your early return, knowing you would reason with your father – but alas, as autumn fell, Thraín seemed to recover! He was taking long rides in the hills, hunting wildlife, talking to his people and caring for their affairs, just like he used to. Life was back to normal, for a while at least – until the first snow fell on the Blue Mountain range."

Balin paused to feed more wood to the fire, as if freezing from an inner cold remembering.

"The night of this first snow, Thráin called a handful of dwarf warriors to his chamber in the dead of the night. Those warriors were my brother Dwalin, Dunín, Tarí, Oflí and I.

The ring on the king's right hand seemed different that night, shimmering silver, not it's usually dull gray. I wondered if it had become taller too, feeding on your father's mind. We tried in vain to reason with his endeavor to ride for the Erebor – but king Thráin was mad for gold, and cursed us to the core of our forefathers' bones as we were hesitatant to ride in winter, and only six of us. Mad king! His own child, his beloved Dís! He called her an atrocious name as she begged him to stay! He would not rest another night, nor wait for your return, Thorin – and seeing we'd rather lose our heads, than break the spell of gold on him, we had no choice but ride with him.

Of all the dwarfs that rode with Thráin, only Dwalin and I still live; for Tarí died mere days after our return from a raging fever, Oflí was killed by a warg on his aimless search for the lost king, and Dunín was no longer with us as we returned. Oh, had we but known how cursed our quest was to begin with!

Dark omens followed our every step, and I have not heard from an enterprise this damned in all my life, my prince. The night we left, two ponies broke their legs in the dark, and had to be released. The evening of the next day, the hills of Dunland's still in plain sight, a cold rain started to fall, which would last for weeks - oceans rained down on us, no matter which direction we took! The fifth day, we found our food had turned bad, water having seeped into the bags.

From the sixth day on, as we entered the woods of Wilderland, we could find no clean water anymore, the rain becoming foul before it hit the ground. In the seventh night, wolves attacked us, since we could not make a fire in the rain. They killed all but four of our ponies, and wounded Dwalin and Tarí, whose arm did not heal well- there he caught the fever that killed eventually. On the eight day, Dunín fell sick after drinking poisonous water, his thirst having been so bad he went as crazy as the king.

We all were hungry and desperate, horrible nightmares waking us from our sleep - unnamed monsters ate our souls, shouting our true names. Our strength was almost gone by the ninth day. Only your father seemed to thrive, needing no food nor drink, sitting up all night, mumbling to his ring, an eerie smile on his sodden face, forcing us to continue our miserable journey.

On the eleventh day, Dunín could ride no more, his body agonized by convulsions – oh Thorin, it was dreadful, watching him die from such witchery! The woods of Wilderland once were beautiful, but evil has now settled in it's every niche and crack!"

Tears shimmered in Balin's eyes, and Thorin wished he would finish, for his heart was growing heavy hearing this tale unfold.

"Thráin was restless that day, but not because he pitied the agony of his brave warrior – no, restless but for his obsession to hurry towards the Erebor, to not lose a moments time! As the night was falling, he grabbed his sword and started digging a hole in the mud, whilst our dear friend was still breathing... I pray Dunín was dead by the time he was buried, but I can not tell to this day if- ... _Oh Aulë, have mercy_! We rode on that night, not speaking a single word. The morning of the twelfth day, we saw black riders following our tracks.

They were not orcs, not men, their presence reeking of dark magic and fear – I pray you shall never see them in your time of life my price! For not even Smaug is as terrible a monster as they are! We barely made it to Mirkwood, and hid ourselves in the underwood, praying to the forefathers to protect us from evil beyond words."

The white-bearded dwarf paused, staring into the dancing flames, pondering his words.

"Thorin... You are a better dwarf than me, and a remarkable prince to your people. I feel honored to serve you, and nothing you ask of me, shall ever be declined. My life is yours to command, and if you wish to undo my miserable existence, I would feel honored to find my end by your hands. But hear my words to the end Thorin, and wisely decide what the fate of your people shall be. For you are the true king under the mountain, and I hail only you."

* * *

Thorin felt his blood run cold, hearing the tale of the last night a dwarf set eyes on his father Thráin.

Hiding in the underwood, the company saw the dark riders approach, their faces hidden behind black hoods, their horses smelling like no living animal ever seen. They slowly advanced towards the dwarfs, drawn to them not by sight, but feeling one of their kin close. Balin felt his life fading, dead eyes searching his soul and mind, soiling his innermost self. Too weak to fight, four dwarfs closer to death than to life cowered beneath wet bushes, whilst a fifth was dragged from their midst, crying for his gold as the riders took him away. The king was gone, but the dwarfs did not follow his captors – Thráin had been lost to his people for a long time, and no power of earth could ever bring back their king.

It was long, before Thorin spoke a word; his voice was calm, as he ask Balin to leave him alone for the night. If the white-beard was afraid of his sentence, he did not show as he headed for the tunnel leading to the surface. He was not afraid of death; but he was afraid what darkness his words might bring to his people.


	6. Third Moon of Winter

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole chicken by myself!"

"I'm _soooo_ hungry, I could eat _half a cow_ by myself!"

"I'm_ soooooo_ hungry, I could eat a _WHOLE cow_ by-!"

"If you don't shut up right now and work with your hands instead of mouths, neither of you will eat ANYTHING TONIGHT!"

Fíli and Kíli jumped with fright, picking up pace, piling the wood logs up as fast as they could. Gíflí grumbled, his axe splitting tree trunks with ease as anger fueled his arms. For days he had been wondering what evil he had comitted, to deserve such gabblers as grandsons; but no misdeed coming to his mind fit such punishment.

Talk, talk, talk, talk – from the early morning, to the dark of night those two were at it, Kíli even blabbering in his sleep. A dwarf was to go deaf of all their chatter!

"Curse of the mountains... WILL YOU GET DOWN THERE FÍLI BEFORE IF COME UP TO GIVE YOU A SOLID BEATING! What on the mountains might are you doing up there anyway?!"

The dwarf boy shrugged, standing on top of a shaky pile of logs, dogging as his brother threw a small wood at him, aiming masterful for the blond boy's head.

"We thought it would be quicker this way - you see, Kíli throws the logs up and I-"

"BY ALL THE MOUNTAINS OF MIDDLE EARTH! IS THERE END TO YOUR FOLLY?!"

Sulking, Fíli jumped off the pile of woods, pinching his brother hard, who dared to smirk at the other's reprimand. Within moments, they were fighting again, rolling on the floor, ruining their clothes as they wrestled, for the fifth time that day, and this being before lunch.

Gíflí sighed, wishing he had had the heart to declined Dís' request to teach her beloved sons his art. Looking back, he'd rather face an orc army any day, than keeps those dwarf boys round for one.

* * *

"Fíli?"

"Hm?"

Kíli turned in his bed, facing his brother. Neither of them were tired yet, but their grandfather had driven them to bed without mercy as the sun set. Now the old dwarf was snoring as if to bring down the cave, having been so tired from his day's worth of shouting, he forgot to give the boys their nightly telling-off.

"Do you think he'll _ever_ teach us how to fight with a sword?"

Fíli frowned, cleaning his beard and hair of resin, "I don't know... it only has been five days. Be patient Kíli, I guess he is testing us-"

"But - what test is milking goats? Or cutting wood! Or- or- or cleaning the cave! That's not test for a warrior!"

Huffing, the seven-year-old pulled his blanket up, shooting daggers at his snoring grandfather.  
His mother had told him he was going to learn important things, if he was a good boy, stopped crying and went with grandfather Gíflí; though Kíli was beginning to suspect his mother had not been thinking of adventure and sword play, when biding them far well. Bitter tears rose to his eyes, "We'll never learn anything nice, and we will forever be here and feed and milk goats and clean and dust!"

Fíli rolled his eyes at his brother, feeling as if he were more than five years his senior.

"Kíli, do not be such a crybaby! As uncle Thorin always says, a warrior has to fend for himself. Surely, knowing how to cut wood and cooking food and feeding animals is important if one does go to war one day!"

The dark blond boy wasn't convinced by his brother's faithful words, finding it hard to imagine their noble uncle racing after a bleating, biting goat, slipping on the smelly litter, or sucking splinters from his fingers all night after a day of chipping wood.

"I will not be a goat herder! Tomorrow, I'll run off to become a real fighter! You stay here – but I shall be gone, ha ha! Good night, brother!"

Defiant, he rolled over, sure to have impressed Fíli with his pride and resolution, and only a bit afraid of his decision to run off. But come tomorrow morning, before dawn, he would leave this place, not to once more milk that evil goat with it's scary eyes. And then, when he was a great warrior, they would all admire his bravery when he returned, and Fíli would be so envious!

"Oh, well, you just be going then... But you know, you would not find your way out of the woods Kíli, let alone out of Dunland! And a good night to you too, little brother."

Fíli snickered and grabbed his brother's foot as he kicked him, twisting it until Kíli begged for mercy; but Kíli avenged himself then by biting Fíli's hand, who then pulled his brother's beard so hard he cried. On and on, they pinched and tore and pulled another till they fell asleep exhausted, still clinging to each other, to start fighting again in the morning.

* * *

Grinding his teeth, Gíflí got up in the dead of night, tiptoed past the sleeping children, and locked the door with a chain of iron as thick as his arm, muttering to himself,  
"Ghosts of the Blue Mountains, aid me.. How am I to teach them anything, if they drive me insane day _and_ night? How can I teach them to be good dwarf and warriors, if they run off deaf and dumb before I can even speak _good_? I should be the one to run away! But you just wait and see, my boys- how soon you will wish to be just feeding goats and chopping wood again!"


	7. Third Moon of Winter, Part 2

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Are you still asleep!** LAZY! WILL YOU GET UP!**"

The dwarf boys yelped as they were thrown out of bed, squinting against the first light of dawn. Gíflí laughed at their confused faces, as they sat on the cold floor dumbfounded like owlets fallen out of the nest.

"We will ride when the sun touches the lower hills – HURRY UP YOU SLOW DWARFS! GET GOING! OR SHALL I WASH AND DRESS YOU!?"

Horrified at the thought of their grandfather washing them, using his same old piece of cloth, Fíli and Kíli hurried to get up and ready, shivering in the cold morning air. The fire had long died down, and the brothers worried about the nature of their breakfast, their stomaches rumbling. Would they eat bread only? No porridge or thick soup today? They intended to inquire their grandfather, but Gíflí was already outside, saddling the ponies, huffing impatiently.

"WILL YOU TWO HURRY UP! BEFORE YOU'RE READY THE SUN IS SETTING AGAIN!"

Fíli and Kíli raced out of the cave, to be sent back immediately get their bags and to lock the cave door behind them, before swiftly being lifted on the shaggy black pony, Gíflí sitting up behind them, tying the brown pony to the bridle of the black one.

Meekly, Kíli dared to ask, "Grandfather... where are we riding to?"

The old dwarf's answer was disturbingly cheerful.

"We are riding to Hell, my children! And you will learn to _LOVE IT_! HAHAHAHA!"

* * *

_Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud_

"My prince? Your highness? ... Thorin? ... How shall I say this... Maybe you should rest some? Before you drop dead?"

Thorin paused, lowering his pickaxe, looking at his friend for the first time in hours.

It was odd he still considered Balin a friend after what the other had done, and Thorin found he was still unsure about how to feel, let alone judge the story he had been told. Thorin felt torn apart between filial duty and friendship. Both were important things in a dwarfs life, and held sacred in all times. For a long time he sat alone in the darkness, pondering what he was going to do; avenge his father, byslaying his friend, or redeeming his friend by betraying his father? Thráin had thrown away his and life and people for the love of gold, besmirching his family name with evil deeds; what duty did Thorin hold to such a father anymore! But Balin had turned his back on the king he swore to follow in life and death, and had peacefully lived on; what friendship should Thorin hold true to such a traitorous dwarf!

Thorin had started wandering the caves, hoping to find solace deep beneath the mountain. His path led him further down, into the abandoned mines of Ered Luin, till he had to stop for a collapsed mine shaft. Deep in thought, he had picked up an abandoned pickaxe, long forgotten by the miners of old times, and swung it hard against the stone wall. Thud, Thud, Thud, the noise dulled his weary mind; this was the way of the dwarf, mindlessly working away the stone until they became creatures of stone themselves. There lay peace in drudgery, all the more if it was without a purpose. _Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud,_ yearning for nothing, not wishing anything, just the pickaxe hitting the stone,_ Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud..._

When Balin came looking for him the next morning, he was surprised to find his friend up to his knees in shattered stone, grimly hammering at the mountain's insides, as if to bring down the Ered Luin. After watching him work until his lantern was about to go out, the white-haired dwarf sighed, seeing there was no end to Thorin's dilemma, the axe handle tinted red with blood. Softly, he addressed him, unsure if he was being heard.

"_... you should rest some? Before you drop dead?"_

Thorin sighed and let go of the almost broken pickaxe, grateful for the other's caring, mocking words; it was as if a spell had been broken.

"Maybe you are right Balin – let us return to home, old friend. I feel rather tired now."

Balin watched his friend faint, rolling his eyes at the cave ceiling. As happy as he was Thorin had forgiven him – if his prince would find a less drastic way to make up his mind, he certainly would not reprimand him.

* * *

The more miserable his grandsons became on their ride east, the more Gíflí's mood seemed to brighten. Fíli was gloomy, for he had a good idea where they were going, whilst Kíli was downcast for not having had breakfast or lunch yet. Besides, he was worrying who was going to feed and milk the evil goat now; though he assured himself that he cared not at all for the fate of his enemy. He was just wondering, that was all.

Hell's gate was in sight by noon, for it was a clear, sunny winter's day; but even in darkness and fog, the stench would have given away the land they were riding on. The air reeked of the sulfur the Blue Mountain dwarfs had been mining for centuries, exploiting the mountains until the stone fell apart. Explosions in the mines and firedamp had driven the dwarfs out of Hell two hundred years ago, only some trying to mine in Hell nowadays. The ponies balked, the sulfur fires below the soil scaring them. Gíflí whistled cheerfully, enjoying the silence brought on by the children's awe.

"If you live, you will have quite a story to tell to, say Fíli? And don't be afraid Kíli! There are no orcs in there... Just some Mountain-trolls and spirits of dead miners."

The children gulped, clinging onto each other; the old dwarf cackled, urging the ponies to go on. Oh, how sweet the silence! It would be nightfall by the time Fíli and Kíli dared to speak again.


	8. Third Moon of Winter, Part 3

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Dear? Won't you come in? It's getting lonely in here..."

Eflí wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, resting his head on her shoulder, to see what Dís might be seeing in the distance. Feeling unwell, she had rested after dinner, but soon woke up again, shaking from a bad dream, her face ashen. She had not spoken much since then, standing outside in the cold, wrapped in her fur coat her, gazing towards the easter lands.

He had no seen her like this before, and scared Eflí pleaded, "Dís, please... speak to me, dearest!"

The dwarf woman sighed, leaning into her husband's embrace, shivering slightly.

"Eflí, forgive me, but do not inquire after my thoughts... Let us go inside and rest. Tomorrow my grief will be gone dear husband. Do not worry"

Hesitant the gray bearded dwarf let got of his wife, and followed her into their cave, obstructing the door. The wargs were getting bolder, ravaging the settlements of humans; soon dwarfs would fall victim to their hunger too.

As they lay down to sleep, Dís turned to face away from her husband, praying he would fall asleep soon, as to not hear her mourn. She could not tell him about her visions, as much as she wished to. For knowing what was to come would drive Eflí insane.

Ever since Dís could remember, she had possessed the rare gift of sight, but it had become a curse to her nowadays. Often, visions of good resting places, where food was to be found and clear waters ran had aided her; but she would rather have had her people and herself starve, then seeing her family's destiny in her dreams.

The dwarf princess first thought she could bargain with fate, trying to change only her sons' paths, letting her brother continue seeking his own downfall, not warned about his fate. But her dream did not change for all her efforts; she still saw Fíli and Kíli riding with their uncle to the Erebor, looking so joyful and young as they vanished from her eyes. It was in vain, nothing could change her vision. Dís had meant well and sent her sons to become warriors of the Blue Mountains, trusting their grandfather to teach them the art of anvil and axe, instead of sword and arrow, keeping them far away from the Erebor. But Fíli and Kíli were choosing their own destiny, and Dís had to learn to live knowing what was to come, unable to avert anything.

* * *

"And now, I will show you what we came here for!"

Still chewing on the dried beef they had been given for a late dinner, Fíli and Kíli followed their grandfather down the mine shaft, the torch Gíflí was carrying illuminating their way through the darkness of Hell.

"Once, this was the biggest mine of the Ered Luin, and thousands of dwarfs lived here! Well, hundreds died down here too – but that was long ago. Now the sulfur is mostly depleted, and there are not many dwarfs alive in this age that know how to mine for it. I dream of changing that one day."

Kíli tried to tear the beef string apart with his teeth, listening only half to what Gíflí was saying. Fíli was afraid he knew what the old dwarf had on his mind, asking murky, "Are we here to learn how to mine for sulfur?"

"MORON! If I wanted to teach you how to mine, I could have done so in the Blue Mountains!"

Fuming, Gíflí strode out, the dwarf boys barely managing to keep up, tired after the long ride. Soon they arrived at a tall iron gate, finely wrought showing tales of the life in Hell. Gíflí used a large, worn key to open the gate, needing most of his strength to push it open.

Inside, the air was stale, smelling of iron, the torch's flames reflecting on huge heaps of scrap metal. Fíli and Kíli gaped at the conglomeration of pots, pans, forks, plates, shields, mirrors and what not, all rusted and worn, littering the cave. Gíflí handed his elder grandson the light, as he went digging through the trash, mumbling to himself, "Where are you, now... I did put you here, no there, wait, I was sure I did hide them over there, hmmm, just where could they – AH! Here you are!"

Triumphant he held up a greasy bundle, clanging and cursing as he pushed his way back through the scrap. Kíli had finally finished dinner, and was now closely paying attention to the bald dwarf's actions.

"What do you think he found Fíli?"

His brother shrugged, curious too, "Maybe an old pan- he said he needed needed one badly-"

Gífli shook a teapot off his boot, cursing dreadfully.

"Imbeciles! These are no pans!"

He then went about to cleared his throat, trying to look and sound most ceremonial.

"So, my dear boys, today is the that today you – WILL YOU STOP PEEKING FÌLI! Anyway, where was I- well, today is a glorious day, for you shall be given what ever dwarf needs to have for him to grow up big and strong- GET AWAY FROM THERE KÌLI! - so, errh-"

Fíli tried to be helpful, "You were ranting about growing up strong-"

"SILENCE! Ah, it is hopeless, you two are just... Well, here you have your first own swords. Great be the day, here have them, and now shut up!"

Sulkily, Gíflí presented them the greasy bundle, unpacking it without any ceremony and handing each boy a small sword.

Asolemn silence filled the cave, and Gíflí felt the importance of the moment, sensing the children's grateful awe.

Bewildered, Fíli and Kíli stared at their much awaited first metal swords. How many night had they dreamt of this moment, fantasizing about the beauty and might of the one true sword they would get and cherish forever more? Oh, how had they waited for this moment! Finally, they had swords of their own! But could these things be called swords? Small, rusty, brown with age, dull, unsightly – maybe, long ago, these had been blades of battle – but oh, how long ago! It must have been _e__ons_!

Fíli was first to overcome his speechlessness, striking a pose as if mortal wounding an enemy.

"Oh look, how blunt this sword of mine is! Evil creature! Though shall perish from it's pinch!"

He threw the sword up high, catching it with his bare hand, laughing.

"I think mother's cheese knife is sharper than is!"

Forgetting all about his grandfather, who stared open-mouthed at the children's obvious irreverence, Kíli joined in, hitting the cave floor with his sword.

"And our cheese knife has caused a lot more bloodshed! Haha, look how the rust is falling off! It's rusty to the hilt!"

Giggling, they banged the dull blades against each other, clanging noisly.

"Do you think they might brea- _OUCH!_"

Kíli whined, rubbing a quickly growing bump on the side of his head. Gíflí had given him a clout to last for days, and Fíli escaped his fist neither, the heavy blow sending him to sit on the floor.

"IMBECILES! SPOILED SCALLYWAYS! If you don't honor those swords, you do not deserve them! _Rusty_! What do you foolish children know of swords! There are no blunt swords – ONLY CRUDE DWARFS! You will learn how to restore these sword to their former glory – or I shall skin you with them!"

The brothers looked at each other shocked; had the ghost of the mountain claimed their grandfather's mind? There was no way these unsightly, deformed things would ever become battle swords, no matter how hard they polished them.

Kíli sadly whispered, "I think he has been in the lignite mines too long! He's all crazy!"

This earned him another clout, harder than the first, for Gíflí was old, but not hard of hearing. Fíli protested his innocence at also receiving another bump, for he had not spoken his mind yet.

The old dwarf picked up the discarded swords, glaring at his grandsons.

"Pray they will not hold your foolishness against you- soon, your life may depend on them!"

Wondering what their grandfather might be talking about, Fíli and Kíli hurried after Gíflí, who was slowly pushing the gate shut. The three dwarfs headed back to the surface, the boys arguing whose sword was worse, completely unaware of the many things in the dark watching them leave with hungry eyes.

"_Food... fresh fresh food... fresh... food... once the old one is gone – the feast is ours_!"


	9. Third Moon of Winter, Part 4

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

The two dwarfs were sitting close to the fire, but still Thorin did not feel warm. His friend had chosen draughty cave for his home, too close to the surface and far too spacious for one dwarf alone.

"Balin, I have not seen any other dwarf but you since I entered the Blue Mountains. These mountains are far to quiet these days. What evil has befallen them?"

The other dwarf pulled his fur coat tighter, his nose red with cold.

"If only I knew what has occurred in these caves Thorin! I have not seen a Blue Mountain dwarf in three moons now... Just human merchants still come here, hoping to trade wheat for iron, and it was them who told me about a dark haired, noble looking dwarf heading for the Ered Luin. To think, dwarfs having become so rare in this area, that even the dumbest men notice one of us!"

Balin looked miserable, always having been fond of company and feasts, unhappy in his loneliness.

"Was there an invasion? I did not know orcs might still roam the Ered Luin-"

"No, oh no, none of this – no battle, no sickness, nothing of that sort! Thinking back, the Blue Mountain dwarfs first started to disappear round the second summer moon two years ago, after a terrible fire had burnt down the forest in the west. At first we thought a dragon had come, the flames reaching the sky, the air becoming too hot to breath! Thank Mahal it was just a ragging forest fire, probably caused by lighting.

But it took weeks of rain to put out the blaze, and till this day no green has grown on those lands. So the Ered Luin dwarfs called in a council in the broken halls of Belegost, to discuss where to continue cutting wood, now the closest forest was gone. It was then they first realized some dwarfs were missing, for many dwarf men and women did not come to the council. Since nobody knew where they went, they all assumed they had fled in panic from the fire.

Dwarfs tend to live on their own, not visiting each other often, mining and expeditions being held higher in regard than weddings and birthdays, and it came that many of the Ered Luin vanished without notice. Only when children started to disappeared, the dwarfs became frightened; counting their numbers, they found half of them gone! They decided that no dwarf should wander off alone, and the few remaining women and children were moved into the grand cave, to be guarded at all times. And for some time, no dwarf was lost, as the Blue Mountain dwarfs took care of each other."

Balin sighed, stroking his long white beard, an empty plate resting on his lap.

"All was well when I went on a mercantile expedition with a small group of dwarfs this summer, to trade for sulfur and cotton in the east. But when we returned, the caves were deserted, no living nor dead dwarf to be found in all of Ered Luin! It was frightening, all was in perfect order, no trace of them fleeting in a hurry, or fighting for their lives.

It was as if they had just wandered off into the mountain, to never be seen again. We searched all the mines and caves, but did not find a single soul. The last six dwarfs of the Blue Mountains and I went to look for their sisters and brothers. Every day we went farther down the tunnels, calling their names, looking for any sign. Then one morning, I woke up to find myself alone in, even the last Blue Mountain dwarfs gone. At first I guess they left for another search, and would be back shortly. This was five weeks ago. I think now I am the only dwarf left in the Ered Luin."

Thorin stared at his friend disbelieving. More than five hundred dwarfs vanished – and no other dwarf people had known about this, had cared about them enough to notice? Surely, the dwarfs of the Erebor were still at enmity with the dwarfs of Ered Luin, but they would have come to their aid nevertheless!

"Why did they not call upon us for help Balin! Stubborn fools! We would have come for them!"

The white-haired dwarf smiled sadly, shaking his head at the young dwarf's impassioned words.

"Pride is stronger than wisdom my prince, and never would the dwarfs of Ered Luin have overcome it – just like our people will not forgive being called g_ullrekin earh_ by them. It will take more than the downfall of one's family and home to teach a dwarf benignity and humbleness. Or would you have come begging to return, for the sake of your people?"

The dark-haired dwarf started a reply, but stopped; Balin was right, but still... For dwarfs not to be help dwarfs in times of need! What madness had this world come to after the battle of Azanulbizar, where all dwarfs had stood together against the orcs? When had words become more powerful than deeds, insults stronger than blood and kin?

"Balin, let us go looking in the mountains for the dwarfs of the Blue Mountains. I can not believe them all gone – for sure, there are some left! A whole people lost without a trace! This can not be, unless for evil witchery."

"And what if we do not find any of them?"

Thorin frowned, wondering to what end his friend asked such a cryptic question; but then it dawned on him, "Sly fox... You hope we will not find them, and claim the Ered Luin for ourselves?"

Balin grinned, his eyes full of mischief, "I have to admit, the thought occurred to me, your highness. Though it were to be better still if we found at least one dwarf of the Ered Luin alive. I'd be rather uncomfortable settling in Belegost again, not knowing what drove its former inhabitants off, leaving all they owned behind."


	10. Third Moon of Winter, Part 5

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Too heavy, too hot, too noisy, too smoky – WHAT ARE YOU?! FAIRIES?!"

Gíflí aped the two dwarf boys who were barely indistinguishable from the heap of coal they sat on, all covered in grease and sooth. He could only tell the boys apart, because Kíli's eyes were red from constant crying. Fíli was holding his feelings in a little better, resolved to not cry in front of his grandfather who was mercilessly teasing them all day long.

Early before dawn they had to get up and fetch water, then a quick breakfast, and then they had to polish pots and pans and anything Gífli might get his hands on – grinning he'd say, "Practice makes perfect!", handing them yet another piece to clean. So far they had not touched or seen a sword again since they were 'given' their sword; the old dwarf was resentful, and would not let them have their swords until they knew how to take care of them.

"Do you plan to sit here all day? We still have to get thirty buckets of coal – or do you think the mountain ghosts will bring them to you!"

Kíli sobbed, "But I am tired!", black tears running down his stained face.

"Will you be tired when battle rages too!? YOU WOULD NOT BE TIRED IF YOU'RE FAMILY WAS ABOUT TO BE MURDERED! OR WOULD YOU?"

Gífli was surprised at his harsh words, for he had only meant to scold the boy; after all, he was still very little, and not fit for such hard work yet. Fíli tried to comfort his brother, looking confused at his grandfather, "It's okay Kíli, it's okay... sh... I shall go with grandfather and get the coals, and you wait here for us and-"

"_BUHUHUUUU_ but I do not want to be here_ alooooooone_! And I can carry _cohohhoals toooo_... _waaaaah_! _I am nooooo baby_!"

Fíli sighed, patting his brother's head. Kíli stubbornness was the only thing still greater than his fatigue.

"But Kíli, you said you are tired! Uh, well – then, you know, somebody has too look after the coals whilst we are gone! You could do that, right little brother? You could do that?"

The other boy sniffled, nodding weakly.

"Yes, I can do that... But you will be back soon? You promise?"

Gífli cringed at the anxious question, and his firstborn grandson's reassurement to return immediately. Of course the child was afraid to be left behind in the darkness – had he not been played to a mean hoax by his very own grandfather just the day before! Looking back, the white-bearded dwarf could only phantom why he had thought it funny to lock a seven-year old in a dungeon, if only for a few moments. Kíli had been so terrified he had not spoken until bedtime, to scared to even cry. Gífli had almost apologized to the boy, but then he forgot to do so after they had dinner. Gífli did not feel comfortable about himself, wondering if was he getting so old that he even forgetting that he forgot something. The old dwarf promised he would be kinder to the children from now on; but the next moment, he found himself yelling at them again for being lazy and slow, having forgotten his good intentions.

The elder boy did not like leaving his little brother behind in the forge's storage room, but if he had to carry another bucket of coal this day, Kíli would surely collapse. Fíli did not know what to do; if only he knew why their grandfather was in such a foul mood lately! For surely, they were not this bad? They did everything as they were told, and only now and then broke something or argued or stayed up all night. It was as if grandfather Gífli did not care for them anymore, his words hurtful and cruel at times; he was no the dear grandfather they had know for all their lives.

* * *

"Maybe, the ghosts of the mountains took revenge on them..."

Thorin burst out laughing, almost dropping his lantern, "Balin, do not tell me you believe into these old wives tales'? _The stone coming to life to claim the souls of ignorant dwarfs_? Haha!"

The other dwarf smiled, ducking as the tunnel narrowed, "Dear Thorin, there is more beneath the mountain than dwarfs will ever know. Who would have guessed something like the Arkenstone might ever be found below the mountain? Well, I am fairly sure I have seen a ghost of the mountain once in these mountains - "

"Was it the one time, when you got so drunk on honey beer you tried to propose to your own brother Dwalin?"

They both laughed, remembering the nights of Dís wedding; it had been a lovely feast, lasting for three days and three nights as a proper dwarf wedding was supposed to. They only could recalled they nights thought, for they had nursed their heads and groaned all day long, swearing to not ever be caught drinking again – until sun set.

Thorin found he had not been in such a content mood for a long time, talking about things other than misery, wandering deep under the mountains with an old friend. The coolness of the air, the safe feeling know miles of impervious stone to surround and protect him; the only thing he missed was the steady noise of hammers and pickaxes digging for gold and iron. The black-haired dwarf caught himself hoping they would find not one Blue Mountain dwarf on their way through the tunnels; for his heart was longing for a home under the mountain, and he almost forgot his passionate claim to aid his brethren no matter what people they were.

As an dwarf of honor, Thorin felt he had to keep his word; even if Balin considered oaths to maybe-dead dwarfs as not-quite-as-binding. All the more if they were Ered Luin dwarfs.

Lost in thought, he almost ran into his friend, who had stopped suddenly, staring at the polished stone wall fifty feet ahead.

"What is it this Balin? Another dead end?"

Distraught, Balin shook his head, his face as white as his beard, "Thorin, this is not right... By all stones and gems, there should not be stone blocking our path! This tunnel is the old route to the west, carved out of stone hundreds of years ago - I swear I used this tunnel half an year ago!"

Thorin frowned, wanting to question his friend if he was sure this was the right tunnel, but he could not form the words. His head suddenly started to spin, his vision blurring, as a strange thought invaded his mind...

_Thud, thud, thud... yearn for nothing, do not wish for anything, just let the pickaxe hit the stone, Thud, Thud, Thud, Thud..._


	11. Third Moon of Winter, Part 6

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Guarding the coal... I am... guarding... the ... coal..."

Kíli was slowly dozing off, too tired to be afraid of the darkness lurking beyond the lantern's light any more. How long had it been since his grandfather and Fíli had left? Half an hour? An hour? If only he had a way of telling the time; but down in the mines where sunlight never reach shone, one could not even tell whether it was day or night.

"Coal... guard ... ing..."

The dwarf boy curled up on the cold stone bench he had sat on waiting, dreaming of buckets full of coal waiting to be carried.

He did not feel as a cool wind ruffled his hair, causing the candle flame to flicker and extinguish. Had Kíli been awake, he would have screamed in terror, feeling the shadows closing in on him, as the habitants of the darkness hesitantly approaching the sleeping child. Their faces were distorted by hunger, torn mouths hissing, "_Ours? ... Ours yes? Our food? ... so small... so small.. so little food!_"

They had almost mustered the courage to touch the boy, when suddenly heavy footsteps thundered through the tunnels, accompanied by heavy curses, making the creatures shriek and flee back into the darkness. Bursting into the forgery, the old dwarf blazed with anger, his shouts echoing the mines for miles. Had there been any dwarf close, he would have fled Hell in panic, thinking he had furied a Mountain Ghost.

"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING DWARF! I SHOULD THROW YOU OUT INTO THE COLD SO YOU FREEZE TO DEAD WHILST THE WARGS ARE EATING YOU! AND WHY IS THE LANTERN OUT? YOU LAZY CREATURE!"

Fíli followed his yelling grandfather slowly, his lips trembling, tears filling his eyes. He had merely asked his grandfather if they could not finish getting the coals to the forge on the next day, for he was very tired too; Gífli had given him a tongue-lashing for his request worse than all reprimands the boy had received in his life combined.

Seeing Kíli sleep peacefully seemed to enrage the old dwarf only further; he dropped the coal buckets and grabbed the boy by his hood, roughly shaking him to wake him up.

"WHO ALLOWED YOU TO FALL ASLEEP!"

Horrified, Fíli clung to Gífli's arm, to prevent him from hitting his brother, "Grandfather! Please stop! You're hurting Kíli!"

The bald dwarf whirled around and slapped Fíli hard, the child hitting the floor hard.

Gíf stared at his hand for a while, dazed, then looked at the redish imprint it had left on the boy's cheek. Fíli lay on the floor, his eyes bright with fear, scrambling backwards as the old dwarf made a step towards him, holding out his hand.

"Child... I am... oh... what have ..."

Stammering, he put Kíli down, who was slowly waking up, rubbing his eyes, not understanding what was going on.

The blond boy yelled at his grandfather, as he tried to help him up, "STAY AWAY FROM ME! Kíli! Come here to me!"

Sleepily, his brother yawned, "Hu? Fíli? You are back already?", utterly surprised by Fíli grabbing his hand and pulling him away from their grandfather.

"Come! We are going home Kíli!"

Kíli protested as Fíli dragged him towards out of the forge into the tunnels, looking back at the old dwarf who stood motionless like a pillar, watching them leave, his face grey.

"But- grandfather – Fíli – wait his going on!"

Fíli turned and yelled at his little brother, "**I said**, we are going home! NOW!", silencing the dark-blond boy as they hurried through the tunnels. Fíli hoped one of them would lead them to surface; but the boy considered being lost in the mines of Hell a better option than returning to the forge.

* * *

Gífli was left behind in the dark storage room, desperately trying to go after the children, wanting to yell for them to stop, telling them he was sorry. But his legs would not move, just like the the words would not form in his mouth. What was happening to him! Such madness!

He had never hit any child of his – sure, he had spanked them and knocked on their heads – but to hit them, in the face! Drawing blood, striking because he wanted to inflict pain

Never had he done something this ... _cruel_ ... _But_ ... _were they not deserving a beating_? _Those little, lazy dwarfs _–

**NO!** This what not true! Gífli scolded himself – how could he think such insanity! He loved them both, blood of his blood, dearest treasure of them all! He had to go after them and get them back, before they hurt themselves in the depths of Hell!

The bald dwarf wanted to run for the tunnels, but his limbs refused to serve him, no matter how hard he tried; more though, his feet carried him over to the broken weapons he had meant to fix with his grandchildren the next day.

Gífli felt his blood run cold, as he realized that he was was longer his own master. Something evil was making him do these things, and he could not free himself from its control! He was screaming on the inside, as his body moved on it's own, his hand picked up a rusty broad axe; had he wished to go for the tunnels merely moments ago, he now begged his feet to stop, as they walked him into the darkness. No! No! NO! Gífli's mind raged, imprisoned in it's body – he would not allow his grandchildren to be harmed! NO!

* * *

"Fíli, why are we running away? Why is grandfather angry? Is it because I fell asleep? I know I should not have but-"

Kíli was more stumbling along than actually walking, too tired to put one feet in front of another. Only the haunted look in his brother's eyes kept him from sitting down and going back to sleep.

The elder boy tried to smile and reassure his brother, wanting to spare him the horrible truth of what made them flee.

"Oh, grandfather is just testing us Kíli ... We need to get back home on our own, to prove that we are good, you see? So we have to carry on, or – or he will be disappointed!"

Fíli tighten his hold on Kíli's hand, not daring to stop for a rest or considering going back, despite knowing they had long lost their way in the mines of Hell. But they had no choice but to hurry on, for no doubt their grandfather was already after them, in a terrible rage. Fíli''s teeth started to chatter for fear of the old dwarf catching up with them, for he had seen something in Gífli's eyes that almost drove him crazy with fright.

For the first time he had seen murder in his life, and Fíli was afraid it would be the last thing he and Kíili ever saw before they both died.


	12. Third Moon of Winter, Part 7

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

Empty eye sockets stared into the darkness, seeing through stone and flesh, watching a tragedy unfold below the mountain. The shadows wailed and backed off from their master, terrified by his thin, cruel laughter – the same laughter that had that had accompanied their gruesome death and resurrection at his hands.

"Ohoho! Who would have guessed we ever met again old friend? After so many years, you walk right into my kingdom? Boldly treading my grounds, having alll forgotten about me, whom you betrayed and helped banish to the darkness? Oh, let me return the favor, dear Gífli! Let me show you, what never ending misery is!"

Amused, the creature bent the inscribed metal rod it clutched a bit further, causing excruciating pain to the dwarf he had once held dear as a brother, "Suffer Gífli, suffer... And when you have suffered enough, I shall make you suffer even more! Run, run fast! Kill your grandsons! Kill them!"

His insane cackling echoed the cave, causing his minions to flee in panic. Eflí Ironeyes, the only dwarf mage ever born in the Blue Mountains, knew joy only as the suffering of others;L and it would not be long before he would turn back on the miserable ghosts he had created to torment them for his amusement again.

* * *

Kíli did not dare to release his breath, holding Fíli's hand so hard the other boy almost cried out in pain. Hearing their grandfather holler nearby, they had tried to hide in a limestone cave, hoping he would not find them in the maze of stalactites; but Gífli seemed to have guessed where they had run to, smashing the limestone with his heavy axe, slowly but steady heading for the hideout of the scared children.

"COME OUT! I KNOW YOU ARE IN HERE!"

The brothers held each other tightly, closing their eyes. This was the end, as running was futile, now that the old dwarf was as close as ten feet, shattering massive stone pillars with one blow.

"I FEEL YOU ARE CLOSE! COME OUT SO I CAN SMASH YOU!"

Then Fíli suddenly let go of Kíli, pushing him down as he jumped up, yelling as loud as he could, "I'M HERE GRANDFATHER! COME AND GET ME IF YOU DARE!", before running towards the far end of the cave.  
Gífli heard the boy call out to him, his body moving afterhim, his mind in vain trying to stop himself.

No no no, in a moment, he would reach Fíli, so close he could reach out and-

"GRANDFATHER! I AM OVER HERE! AND YOU WILL NEVER GET ME you .. uh- you slow old ...dwarf?"

Kíli courage and voice failed him, seeing his grandfather turn around facing him, madness shining in his eyes. Shrieking, the dwarf child ran for the entrance of the limestone cave, Gífli racing after him, hollering in rage, "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME YOU LITTLE SNOT! STOP SO I CAN RIP YOU APART! UAAAAAH!"

Baffled, Fíli stared after his brother, both impressed and mad with Kíli's attempt to save him.  
He was angry for his little brother ruining his plan -for it was his place as the elder brother to protect the younger, not the other way round! So he screamed at his grandfather on top of his lungs, "YOU – YOU STINKING OLD DWARF! I AM STILL HERE! YOU HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST! STUPID! STUPID!"

Gífli stopped dead, turning around, thundering, "WHAT? YOU CALLING ME STUPID? I SHALL FEED YOU YOUR OWN BONES FOR INSULTING ME!"

Swinging his axe high above his head, he ran towards the blond boy; but when he was in the middle the cave, Kíli shouted, "YOU - you - YOU ARE A OLD SMELLY HOG!"

Again the bald dwarf turned, but before he came even close to the cave entrance where Kíli hid behind a stalagmite, Fíli called an insult from the far end of the cave, becoming bolder as he saw their grandfather fall for the trick.

"YOU ARE DUMBER THAN A TROLL! AND YOU SHOULD LEARN TO WASH YOURSELF! YOU ARE DIRTIER THAN A - uhm, uhm - THAN A ORC!"

Gífli's mind was relieved, seeing his grandsons capable of saving themselves. He thanked Mahal that whoever was behind this puppetry, was apparently dumb as a sack of hammers; but strangely, also powerful enough to control a dwarf, the one being no wizard nor elf could put a spell on.

Running back and forth between the boys, his mouth calling words he could not control, Gífli mused what might be possessing him, and how to get rid of it. Maybe it was a Ghost of the Mountain, or the spirit of a dead miner? But would not his mind be gone then? So why was his soul still inside his body?

His feet were getting tired, as was his mind, brooding about a way to break his spell by himself, while insult were hurled back and forth through the cave.

Gífli knew he had to free himself; for as bright as his grandsons were, they surely would not figure out that their grandfather was possessed and needed help. He prayed they would kill him once he dropped with exhaustion, and make it out of Hell alive, forgiving him for being such a horrible grandfather; he would gladly rot in the mines, if only Fíli and Kíli survided his dreadful madness.


	13. Third Moon of Winter, Part 8

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"... Ouch... Balin? Why is my head hurting like somebody knocked me over with the blunt side of a axe?"

Thorin winced as he touched the back of his head, finding no blood, but a large bump at the base of his skull. Balin tried to look apologetic, but his smug grin somewhat ruined the impression.

"Maybe, dear Thorin, because somebody knocked you over with the blunt side of a sword? Say, how are you feeling?"

The wounded dwarf grumbled, "What do you suppose I feeling like! Why did you hit me with an axe? Balin, are you out of your mind?!"

The other dwarf shrugged the accusation off, "No, but I thought you were, my dear friend. Forgive my minding your affairs, but I'd say you were not quite acting on your own free will, when you tried to bring down the tunnel down on us – or were you?"

Indignant, the dwarf prince protested, "Never! I shall never do such a –_ oh_... I begin to see your point, old friend... Please, forgive my harsh words."

Looking down the tunnel, Thorin noticed large boulders had broken from the stone walls, blocking the entrance; he and Balin were covered in bruises and fine, grey stone dust. Apparently he had collapsed the tunnel, even if he did not remember doing so. He dimly recalled thinking about how nice it would be to break their way through the mountain, but did not have any memories of his deeds, before regaining consciousness after Balin's heavy blow.

The white-haired dwarf nodded to himself, as he found his suspicion confirmed, "It seems like something possessed you, my prince – again, if I dare say so. Do you have any idea what might hold such power over you? I wonder, is there any ghost or witch or wizard you offended recently?"

Thorin glowered at his friend, "Balin! There is _no such thing_ as a Mountain Ghost or whatever! So, how could I possibly have offended one?!"

Balin grinned triumphantly, "Maybe, by not believing in its existence?"

Thorin was about to answer that such ghosts did not exist, but stopped to ponder his friend's words, finding Balin's logic hard to refute. What if there truly existed Ghosts of the Mountain's, spirits who lived in the stone and formed it? And who killed dwarfs who paid them no respect? Had they killed the Blue Mountain dwarfs too? Had this been their mysterious fate?

His musings were interrupted by a foul smell swifting through the tunnel, carried on a wisp of wind coming through a crack in the damaged tunnel wall. A smell of burnt horn and rotten flesh, of innumerable death and eyes of the two dwarfs went wide with shock, as they recognized the stench. For it might have been almost hundred years since they last encountered a creature of his kind, but never, never would they forget the foul breath of the monster claiming their home.

Thorin reached for his sword, his knuckles white with tension, whispering, "A dragon... There is a dragon hiding in Ered Luin!"

* * *

Panting, Gífli took another step towards Fíli, then fell down on his knees, shaking with exhaustion. The broadaxe scarped the ground as he dragged it along, crawling and crying hoarsely, "I shall kill you... I shall... kill... you...", before finally collapsing on the limestone. His yellow eyes were still open and watching his grandsons slowly approach him, anxious and ready to turn and run any moment.

They had spent hours sending the old dwarf back and forth, and Kíli's voice was merely a rasping sound as asked his brother, "Fíli... Do you think he is dead?"

Seeing the old dwarf's eye twitch, Kíli hid behind a stalagmite; only when their grandfather did not stir as Fíli threw a small stone at him, they both dared to move again.

Helplessly, they looked down on the exhausted old dwarf, who stared up at them hatefully, patiently waiting for his body to regain its strength to continue the hunt.

Kíli bit his chapped lips, croaking, "Fíli ... What should we do now?"

Fíli had no idea either what to do with their grandfather – should they run, and hope they would find their way back to the surface? But they were lost already, and only their grandfather knew the tunnels of Hell well enough to get out of here. If they left the old dwarf behind, he would probably come after them again, unless they did bind him. But this also meant that Gífli would die, if they ran off and did not return in time...

Disheartened, the blond boy sat on the ground, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth, wishing he and his brother were back home with their mother and father, sitting at the fireplace, everything fine and nobody hurt. Just what was he to do? Leave, and get lost in the mines? Stay, and die from hunger? Tears of frustration welled up his eyes. Fílli found there was no way out off this dilemma, for no matter what he decided to do - he and Kíli would not leave Hell alive.


	14. Third Moon of Winter, Part 9

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Did you hear that?", Kíli wondered, tugging his brother's arm; Fíli looked up tiredly, having dozen off.

"Hear what?"

"_... li... li... ... li_!", a faint echo resounded through the cave; apparently, somebody was out in the tunnels, calling for anybody – maybe them?

"Listen! There it is again! Oh, we have to answer them Fíli! So they can find us!", the small boy jumped up excitedly, his hopes rising. Could it be? Was there another dwarf down here? Maybe somebody who was looking for them?

But Fíli did not share Kíli enthusiasm, urging him to quiet down, "Sh! Who do you think would be down here still? Grandfather said all the dwarf miners left Hell – I do not think we should call out to whomever is out there!"

Kíli sank back to the floor, looking about to cry, whining, "But I am hungry, and thirsty – what if it is somebody nice! They might help us-"

"And what if it is a troll?", Fíli whispered in return as the calling grew louder; eventhough he was just as desperate as his brother, he was not taking the risk of putting their life at the mercy of a stranger – or monster therefore.

Gífli grinned, overhearing the boys' talk as he lay bound on the floor. Using his belt and bootstraps, they had tied the old dwarf's arms to his feet and then to a stalagmite – but they had forgotten to gag him as well...

* * *

"_Dwarfs... So annoying..._" gnarled the ancient creature, rolling onto its side.

Faurim pitied himself, as he lay on his worthless treasure of iron. He was the poorest dragon in all of middle earth! The dragon had become fat in the last two years, but not rich. Well, it was just his bad luck, always choosing the wrong mountain's to claim! The Ered Luin dwarfs had been digging without a break for months now, but still only presented him iron, iron and more iron – where was his gold, where were his gems?

"_Infuriating! Worthless creatures! AND WHERE IS MY FISH_!"

A group of malnourished, dirty dwarfs slowly approached the dragon, carrying a huge metal plate on their shoulders on which pale fishes piled up high, some of them still moving. The dwarfs did not flinch as the dragon bent down to gorge himself, gnashing and scrunching with fish blood dropping from its yellowish teeth. The dwarfs' minds had long been lulled in by the second ring of power, the ring once given to the dwarf king of the Ered Luin by Annatar, which now was ingrown in the dragon's stomach.

Hundreds of years ago, Faurim had eaten the dwarf king, who had dared to stir him from his sleep when he was still a baby, and had killed his mother; but only now that he was grown, the dragon had realized the potential of the ring of power which rested within him. So he had settled in the depths of Ered Luin, resolved to become the richest dragon to ever terrify middle earth; but in the caves deep below the mountains there was nothing to be found but iron and deformed, strange tasting fish, his dream of riches and might ruined, before it had a chance to unfold.

"_If only dwarfs didn't taste so bad! I wish there were some humans or elfs here... I need to eat some flesh soon, or I will go mad from all that rotten fish! Ugh!_"

But until the dwarfs had widening the tunnel, through which he had invaded the Blue Mountains, Faurim was forced to lie below the Blue Mountains, his bloated body no longer fitting the narrow tunnels; all he could do was order his dwarf slaves to bring more food and dig deeper for things more valuable than the grey, dull metal.

Faurim frowned, feeling a dwarf slipping from his control nearby; this had happened twice now, but he could not tell how the dwarf might have freed himself.

"_This is odd... Better send some dwarfs too kill whoever freed himself, or he might be getting the idea of freeing the others! CREATURES! Get your axes - there are trolls in the tunnel! They will murder your children! Find them, kill them!_"

Hurriedly a dozen dwarfs armed themselves, berserk heading for the old route of west, blinded by the dragon's witchery; they were going to defend their families, no matter how many trolls they were! It was a good death dying if one's family was safe!


	15. Third Moon of Winter, Part 10

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"Buhuhuhu!_ It hurts_! Buhuhuhu!"

"HERE_ hmpf- _COME_hmpf_!"

Desperately Fíli tried to muffle the old dwarf using his coat, begging his brother to stop crying. Kíli left hand was bleeding from a nasty bite mark, his ring and middle finger bent in a sickening angle; he had tried to cover up his grandfather's mouth with his hands earlier, and immediately regretted his action.

"Please Kíli, please, _shhhh, _it is going to be alright, but please do not cry,_ please_!"

Gífli struggled against the boy's hold, trying to buck him off his chest. The chances of a kind stranger wandering Hell were nominal; so even if Eflí Ironeyes could no longer use his old friend's body to kill his grandsons all by himself, there was a good chance that whatever was wandering the mines would finish the deed, whilst Gífli watched helpless, held captive in his own body.

It seemed as if his plan was succeeding too; the calls from the tunnels stopped, heavy, threatening footsteps approaching rapidly. Eflí rejoiced, dancing through the cave and hitting the metal rod with Gífli's true name on it against rocks - soon, revenge would be his! After all these years! The day had finally come!

* * *

He had always hated Hell, hated the sulfur stench penetrating every pore, the impenetrable darkness lurking anywhere. The last time he had been here had almost cost him his life, and he had sworn to never return to the mines again; but fate would not let him keep his vow, and so he had set once more for the doomed mines.

The gray-haired dwarf had found the remains of the camp he was looking for soon enough, seeing the embers were still glowing and provision for a couple of weeks waiting for hungry dwarfs to return. But they had not come back to the cave where he had waited patiently. Eventually, he had wandered deep into the mines, following tunnels reeking with old death, carefully looking for any sign of the dwarfs. He had called and called, and had lost all hope to ever find them, when he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain far off.

Worried, he called out again, hoping he would be answered, "Kíli? Fíli? Where are you! I am here!"

Hearing another cry which was quickly muffled, Eflí feared for the worst; readying his axe he stormed into the limestone cave, yelling for his children.

In his rush, he almost overlooked the group of dwarfs trying to hide at the far end of the cave; upon spotting what he had searched for, he dropped his weapon relieved, running over to gather his sons into his arms. "Fíli! Kíli! It is me, oh my dear sons - but children! By all that is below the mountains, what has occurred here!"

* * *

The boys had stared at their father in wonder as he entered the cave holding axe and torch, not quite believing he was real; only when he reached out for them, holding them close, they're doubts were they clung to him, smearing coal and dust and blood all over his fur coat.

"Father! You came! _You came_! We thought nobody would ever come looking for us!"

"Your mother send me to look after you, and none too soon I see – but father Gífli, why are you all tied up?"

Eflí rocked the crying children softly, winching on seeing their many hurts. He frowned as he realized Gífli was bound to a stalagmite, his eyes cold and hard, as if not recognizing his own son.

Fíli tried to explain what had happened, and Kíli held up his mangled hand to prove they were telling the truth; the old dwarf did not say a word, glowering at the family reunited. Eflí carefully cleaned his son's wound, wrapping his hand tightly, thinking aloud, "And he has been like this you came here? But not before?"

The boys nodded, Kíli eager to explain, "Yes father – before he only was as stinking and mean as he always had been!"

Eflí flinched, hearing the boy address his grandfather in such a rude way; apparently it had not been a good idea to leave the children alone with Gífli, and not only for him almost murdering them.

"Hm, I see... I guess we should leave this place; maybe it will break the spell on your grandfather."

Fíli looked at the angry dwarf just waiting for another chance to kill them, wondering quielty "And ... what if he stays like this?"

Eflí handed his elder son the torch and picked up the grim, immobile dwarf up with ease, carrying his younger son on his right arm. Heading back to the entrance of the cave, he turned to see if Eflí was keeping up; his eyes were dark as he looked down on Gífli, his voice colder than ice as he answered his eldest, "A dwarf who deliberately hurts children...? No. I shall not see such a foul creature stay alive in my lifetime."


	16. Third Moon of Winter, Part 11

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"I do not consider this a wise idea your highness... I mean, it_ is_ a dragon after all - and what are you intending to do when you find it? Kill it by getting stuck in its throat?"

Thorin ignored Balin's quibble, trying to squeeze himself through the narrow crevice in the tunnel wall. He was confident he would find a way to kill the beast once he faced it, for it was probably a very young dragon, inexperienced and not used to fighting below the mountains. An older dragon, wise and sly, would prove a problem though; but the dark-haired dwarf stubbornly refused to consider this option yet.

"My prince, please, I really think we should not-" the white-bearded dwarf stopped, listening for a faint noise coming from beyond the blocked side of the tunnel, sounding remarkably like the trampling of feet.  
"What below the mountains is this?",he wondered aloud, worried what the source of the trampling might be; Thorin, who had finally managed to get through the crevice, took a quick look at his surroundings; then turning his attention back to his friend, he shrugged Balin's concern off.

"It is probably just rocks falling old friend, for these mountains are old and weary – now, are you coming as well, or do you plan to stay in there until you starve? Even if you do not wish to face the dragon, you will have to follow me at least over here."

Sighing, Balin tried to follow Thorin, regretting eating too well the past few weeks; there had been way too much food for one dwarf alone in the Blue Mountains, now that its former inhabitants had been claimed by the dragon. Balin had considered it wasteful to let the food go bad, he had eaten more than he needed to thrive; now he had to pay the price for his lust of good food.

He was halfway through, his coat torn half to shreds, when the rocks blocking the tunnel behind him started to shake and rumble, boulders rolling towards him. Balin hurried to pass, scratching his stomach on the stone, Thorin trying to pull him through the crevice by sheer force.

"Hurry! The tunnel is coming down!" the black- haired dwarf cried, coughing as a cloud of grey dust filled the tunnel after the stone collapsed. After a last, desperate push, the white-haired dwarf freed himself, and tumbling forward fell right onto his friend, whom he crushed on the floor

"Ugh! Balin, go have become rather ... _big_. Would you mind getting on my chest, so I can -cough- breathe?"

Quickly the other dwarf got up, reaching down to help his friend up.  
"Forgive me my prince, for my roundness bringing you suffer- GET DOWN!"  
Balin pushed Thorin again to the ground as a lethal whir filled the air, covering him with his body; not a moment too soon, as arrows whizzed through the crevice, hitting the stone with frightening power.

"TROLLS! SHOW YOURSELVES! THE DWARFS OF ERED LUIN HAVE COME TO CLAIM YOUR HEAD!", a dozen dwarfs hollered, shooting more arrows at their enemies.  
Thorin and Balin stared at each other baffled; so there still where some dwarf of the Blue Mountains alive?

Carefully, they pushed themselves up, peeking through the crevice, Thorin trying to explain their intrusion, "We are here to help you – Lomrìn, is that you? Do you not recognize us – we are Thorin Oakenshield and Balin-"  
Balin barely managed to drag his friend out of the line of fire, before more arrows flew into their direction, some Ered Luin dwarfs already climbing into the tunnel, their eyes dark with fury.

"I think we should not try to reason with them, dear friend! And I might prefer facing the dragon after all! RUN!"

Thorin agreed, heading down the tunnel towards the source of the foul stench, a horde of mad dwarfs following in their wake, screaming for their heads.

Maybe Dís had been right, and he should have stayed in poor, overworked Dunland.  
Hungry, tired and poor - but at least in Dunland, he did not have to choose fighting a dragon over fighting his own people!


	17. Third Moon of Winter, Part 12

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

The cold wind howled in the valley, cutting throw any fabric as if it were a fairy's summerdress. The blond boy shivered as he stepped out of the tent, hurrying to finish his business to return warmth of the camp. Fili now could understand why most dwarfs preferred to live below the surface; whilst it was dangerous and unpleasant down there, snow and winter cold never did occur.

His father had chosen to take them home on a different route back Dunland, hoping to met an old friend on the way, who had been a renowned healer in his youth; he had last heard of him living in by the swanfleet, but had not seen him for more than thirty years. But he did not dare to ride for Dunland without consulting a healer frist, for with his youngest son hand worsened every day, the bite mark festering. The child's fingers were pale and swollen, the wound oozing through the bandages. The little dwarf was not complaining though for he was in no pain, which worried Efli all he more. In his time as a warrior, he had found the gravest wounds caused little agony; he had seen a friend die with a serene smile on his lips, not feeling his leg rotting away, gangrene claiming his life shortly after the battle was won.

Gifli seemed to had returned to his old, grumpy self once they had left the range of Hell; but he refused to be unbound, afraid his madness might return any time. He had no idea what evil spirit had possessed him, and did not wish to ever hurt his kin again. His son had a hard time convincing him to not insist on his life to be taken as punishment for his deeds. Fili and Kili were still uneasy round their grandfather, but more for his foul mood fuel by his immesne sense of guilt, than for still being afraid him. The boys had looked him hard in the eye for a long time, their little blue eyes stern, before deciding eventually that whatever evil had been in Gífli was gone. But the old dwarf had a harder time coming to terms with what he had done, and Efli was afraid his father was going to do something reckless if he left him to his own devices. He prayed the old healer was still somewhere to be found, for he might know a way to cure not only Kíli, but Gífli as well; for if his son died, his father would die from remorse.

Fili ran back to the tent, quickly slipping under the warm bedding he and Kili shared. He hugged his brother, who protested softly in his sleep, but did not wake up from the sudden cold against his feverish skin. Fili hoped their mother would not be too mad, if they returned with all their clothes torn and Kili sick again, and she probably would not be delighted on seeing their new old swords either. Their father had not yet told him whether they would be allowed to keep them or not, and Fíli felt bad for not being nice to his sword when he first got it. Maybe now, the sword truly did not want him to be his master, just like his grandfather had warned him? Though, if his mother would not allow him to keep it, what he or the sword might wish for would be ignored anyway. Oh, she would be so angry, telling him how nothing good would ever come from sword's play- but maybe she would not scold him and Kili too much, now that the Wargs where swarming Dunland?

Fili had eavesdropped on his father telling grandfather about the situation in Dunland, and apparently any dwarf would be needed to fight off the beasts, even women being taught how to defend themselves with the axe. The boy had heard them talk about the Blue Mountains too, the place he had been born in twelve years ago; he was curious if his father considered returning there, and if he should be exited or afraid about leaving Dunland. His first attempt at living below the surface had not ended well he pondered, his little brother clinging to him with his good hand, the other covered in smelly ointment and bandages.  
And if uncle Thorin's tales of his adventures were true, he and Kili had gotten but a glimpse of the dangers that might loom in the caverns and tunnels of the Blue Mountains... Fíli closed his eyes, feeling cold despite Kíli's warmth, wishing for sleep to come and claim him; he did not want to think about these things right now, he wanted to go back to a dream where adventures did not mean anybody he loved got hurt.

* * *

"I never trusted these dwarfs of Ered Luin anyway!"

Thorin raised an eyebrow at his friend who was wringing his soaked shirt, "Were you not the one who tried to convince my father to stay twelve years ago, saying they were good dwarfs? And you did have some friends amongst these dwarfs too - even a love, or do I remember wrong?  
Balin grumbled, emptying his boots whom he had always considered waterproof, but swimming in a river though had proven him wrong about their qualities though.  
"Yes, yes, once I had good friends and a love- and I lost one through the other. Now you know why I do not trust a Ered Luin dwarf even if she has eyes like emerald and skin white as pearls."

The other dwarf nodded sympathetic, no stranger to the pains of love. Thorin had not found a partner yet either, though not for lack of interested dwarf women in him, but more for the prince not wishing to found a family of his own, before reclaiming his home. There was no time for love yet, and if they did not make it out of Ered Luin alive, there never would be one.  
"Do you think they will try to follow us down here?", Thorin wondered, looking at the river course. They had manage to reach the rocky beach of an immense underground lake, after jumping in the river to avoid getting shot to death by the approaching dwarf mob.  
Balin threw an eel back into the water, which had found its way into his bag.  
"If I knew where 'here' was dear Thorin, I might be able to answer you; but I have no idea where this river has carried us, nor how we should get back to the surfa-"

The dwarf's words where interrupted by an infernal noise shaking he cavern.  
"WHERE IS MY FIIIIIIISH! CREATURES! BRING ME MY FISH!"  
Balin and Thorin looked at each other disbelieving, the white-haired sighing frustrated, "What gods have we angered, my dear friend? Mahal himself no less? Almost drowning to be swept up in the dragon's belly... Things could not be getting any worse now!"  
Thorin wanted to hit his friend hard, as he heard many hurried dwarfs approach, who would probably soon reach to the shore; why was Balin always challenging fate in moments like these! Things always could be getting worse in the Blue Mountains!


	18. Third Moon of Winter, Part 13

Sorry for posting irregular. I lost my job due to recession last week;  
I'm busy looking for new one, therefore I do not manage to write a chapter every day, sorry :(

******Thank you all for reading****!**  


* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"_I always hated these-_"

"SH!", Thorin whispered, sinking deeper into the water, as the dwarf women threw nets into the lake, their movements clumsy and slow. The two dwarfs had barely managed to hide behind rocks, before the Ered Luin dwarfs came running to the shore to catch fish; presumably for the dragon they had heard earlier. The women looked gaunt, their beards matted, carrying no jewelery or signs of social standing - outragous!  
"_For women to be doing such work! What has the world come to!_", Balin muttered, his eyes fixed on a familiar face. Yes, it was her, he'd always recognise her face; she still was a beauty, even when worn out and poor. The white-haired felt a pang in his heart, thinking how she could have been his wife. But what was she doing here?  
He doubted the Ered Luin dwarfs were serving the dragon out of their own will, and probably were under his spell, just like Thorin had been two times before; but why was he himself not afflicted by the dragon's power?

Impatiently, the two dwarfs waited in the freezing water for the dwarfs to gather up the fish and leave the cave, before they froze to death hiding; the moment they were out of sight, Balin and Thorin waded on land, shivering and nearly immobile from the cold.

"D-do you t-think we j-j-ust could l-leave and pret-tend t-to not have f-found t-t-them?", Balin stuttered, his teeth chattering as he tried to remove his shirt with stiff fingers. Thorin was used to the cold, having spent years wandering middle earth's surface in summer as in winter, but he too felt frozen to the bone.  
"We can not just leave them Balin. We have to free them, or they will die."  
Balin sighed, emptying his boots again, water gushing onto the sand.  
"And how, dearest p-prince, shall we achieve such astonishing a d-deed? Throw r-rocks at it? For our swords and axes will be r-rusted before we –_ achoo_! - even get to the dragon!"  
Thorin had to admit his friend was right, seeing how their weapons had suffered; banged against stone, thrown into water, the scabbard soiled with sand – the blade of his axe was so dull, it would not even cut cheese.

"We would need an army to bring down that beast, with all the dwarfs of Ered Luin between it and us!" Balin grumbled, his fury warming him from the inside. He could not get the thought of Rés off his mind, and it pained him seeing her in such a sad state; but he still was mad at her for turning him down to marry his friend instead, not even inviting him to their wedding. Why should he risk his life to free her, when she had proven to be such a cruel, honorless dwarf lady! He should let her and her people rot away beneath the mountain and return to Dunland with Thorin. And if they were going to fight a dragon, they could as well face Smaug; at least he would die fighting for his homeland then.

Thorin paced back and forth, his bare feet trailing a circle of footprints in the sand, musing, "There has to be a way to free them - you did free me from the spell too, did you not Balin?"  
The white-haired dwarf stopped wringing his beard, laughing softly at the idea, "Why, do you think we can just sneak up to them and hit each and every dwarf on the head before they notice? Besides, _you_ never tried to kill me Thorin when you where under the spell! ... But I do wonder though, why are only the dwarfs of Ered Luin caught by the dragon? If the dragon is so powerful as to control a dwarf's mind - why aren't we like them, our eyes tricked, our will bound? I have lived here for a long time now, but I have never heard the beast call me!"

The dark-haired dwarf did not know the reason for this either, but he also had wondered why he, and not Balin had fallen for the dragon's call, even if just brief. Alas, little did Thorin know, that his grandmother had been a Ered Luin princess once; for it a fact wisely hidden by her husband, who had been afraid his wife would not be accepted by his people, if they knew of her heritage. Part of Thorin's blood belonged to the Blue Mountains, but there was nobody left who knew the secret of Thror's wife anymore.

Hearing the dragon roar in his cave, the two dwarf decided to look for a better cover, hopefully dry this time, neither wishing to go back into the lake again, nor to be hunted by mad dwarfs through the tunnels yet again; maybe, if they had some time to think, they would find a way to free the dwarfs of Ered Luin, slay the dragon and win themselves a home at the same time.

* * *

"Would you like some stew?"  
".. No."  
"Maybe some dried apples?"  
"No..."  
"Potatoes?", Eflí offered, ransacking the provisions, but Kíli just shook his head, closing his eyes tiredly.  
"No, I am not hungry father... I just want to ... sleep a bit more..."  
The grey-haired dwarf tried to smile, but all he manged was a desperate grimace as he wiped his son's feverish brow, reassuring him, "It is alright Kíli, just sleep some, you'll feel better in the morning, I am sure you will... Kíli?"  
The boy had already fallen asleep again, not hearing his father call out for him, nor seeing his tears, as his condition had been worsening for days; Eflí knew if he did not get his son to a healer this day, he would not live to see another.

Fíli had not left his brother's side since they arrived in the swanfleet, hovering over him until he dropped from exhaustion, only to wake up moments later, terrified at the thought of his brother having died while he was asleep. Gífli had gone wandering the swanfleet, trying to find help; he had not returned for two days now; Eflí was afraid his father had gotten lost in the swamps, but he could not leave his sons behind to go looking for him. The sun was setting quickly, the winter cold freezing over the thawed prairie, covering the bog with a treacherous ice sheet.

For the first time since they married, Eflí wished he had not listened to his wife; not knowing his son's fate seemed better than saving him, and still watching him die within days.  
"If only we had never left the Ered Luin... If only...", he sobbed, kneeling next to his son, praying for Mahal to have mercy and spare him witnessing his death; for it was too bitter to live on after having to bury a child, no matter how old it was.

* * *

The old man looked up from his book, hearing his dog bark; but old Fenris probably dreamt of hunting rabbits like in the days of her youth. Only when the she-dog did not quit, he got up from his comfortable seat by the fire, and stepped outside, wrapped in his worn blue coat.  
Patting her head, he tried to calm her, "Old girl, what is it? A bad dream I presume?"  
Looking to the west he could see that whatever had startled her was still out there, moving closer; his eyes were not as bad as the dog's, but he also had a hard time spotting the lonely figure against the setting sun.  
"Oh, a guest? Welcome, or unwelcome – what do you think?"  
Patiently, man and animal waited, curious to see who dared to wander the bog at nightfall; and if he made it across the swamp alive, he well deserved being the guest of Pallando, last Blue Wizard living in middle earth.


	19. Third Moon of Winter, Part 14

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

"_WE HAVE TO HURRY_!"

"Calm down Gífli, why do you not have a cup of tea first-"

The dwarf almost jumped up to grab the man's beard, as to pull him to down on dwarf eye level to yell at him, but contain himself, for he need the wizard's help desperately.  
"I. DO. NOT. WANT. TEA. We have to hurry, _so will you get ready_!"

"Th, th, dear Gífli, there is no need to hurry. We will be on time – for a wizard is always on time, do you not know that? A dear friend always said so, a very wise man indeed.", said Pallando smiling, as Gífli howled in frustration, stamping his feet, causing the plates to shake on their shelves.

If not for the light of the wizard's hut, the dwarf would never have found him in the endless bog; he had been lost for a day, and still had no idea how to find the way back to Eflí and the children; but they had to get going _now_ if they wanted to save his grandson Kíli. The boy had been in a bad state when he left, and was probably already on his way to Mandos – and that wizard had nothing better to do than look for his hat!

"PALLANDO! WE HAVE TO LEAVE! ... I am_ begging_ you!"  
Hearing the proud dwarf address him in such a way, the wizard seemed had an understanding, and taking his bag and staff, finally headed outside, Gífli running after him relieved.

"We have to get to to the blue lake, on the eastern side of the swamp – you sure do know your way round there, maybe even a shortcut?", the dwarf inquired, waiting in front of the stable impatiently, whilst Pallando saddled his riding animal inside. Gífli had not payed the absence of horse's smell any attention, and was therefore equal parts baffled and horrified, when the wizard came riding into the cold winter night, his mount snarling, its enormous fangs bared.

His beard hair standing on end, the dwarf backed away from them, shrieking, "Y-you ... You are _insane_! Riding such a creature! _You madman_!"

Pallando frowned, wondering why the dwarf was so startled; then he remembered, that most mortals, and even some immortals nowadays were scared of wargs, for reasons he could not quite understand. But then again, he had always been a dog person; to him, even a eight feet tall black warg was only an overgrown puppy.

"_You_ were the one who said we need to hurry – so come Gífli, old friend, let us ride! Nobody can cross the bog as fast as my dear Hreþercild!"

Wailing quietly, the dwarf let Pallando help him up to sit behind the wizard, clutching his robe, too scared to touch the beast's fur. He did not dare to close his eyes as they raced over the swamp, his heart frozen with fear; what if the wizard was insane, and would feed him and his son and grandchildren to his 'pet' warg? True, Pallando had always been special, his ways arcane even for a wizard – but still, such behavior was outrageous! Taming a warg! Such nonsense!

* * *

"Father?"

Eflí raised his head, eyes red, not even trying to hide the fact he was crying from his eldest son. Fíli lay next to Kíli, holding his brother's good hand tight, as if he could keep him from fading away by not letting go.

"What is it Fíli?", the grey-bearded dwarf asked, his voice coarse, trying to smile for his son. The boy looked away ashamed, realizing how foolish his question would have been; of course there was nothing they could do to help Kíli. If there were anyway, his father would have give his own life to save him - just like Fíli would have.

His father hugged him, rocking him like a small child, and Fíli realized he could not tell him that he wished to go with Kíli. But he could not let his little brother go alone on this journey – knowing him, he would get into trouble in no time, and then no Fíli would there to save him!

Fíli started to cry, feeling Kíli's hand grow a bit colder again. For seven years, he had not ever been alone, and could not stand the thought of a life without his brother. But if he went away too, then their father would be all alone, and their mother would also have no more sons and her heart would be broken – oh, if only they could all go together, than nobody would be left behind Fíli wished, burying his face in his father's beard.

* * *

"Then you have to bring him here!", Pallando remarked cheerfully, throwing more wood onto the steady growing pile. Gífli was foaming with rage, and would have dragged the wizard over to the camp if not for the gruesome monster eying him hungrily. The old man had suddenly refused to take on more step, urging his mount to stop on a clearing in a small forest; they were so close Gífli could smell the camp fire, but the wizard would not go any further, and had started to collect wood, enough for a bonfire.

"He is too sick! If I have to carry him here, he will die!", the dwarf cried, tearing his beard; but the wizard was adamant.  
"If he dies on the way, I would not be able to help him, even if I were to ride through the forest. No, you shall go and bring him to me – and now _HURRY_! Before it is too late!"

Seeing he would not change the wizard's mind, Gífli left him, bursting through the wood, guided by the smell of wood fire. The dwarf was praying he would make it back with Kíli on time, and cursed the wizard Pallando, whom he would skin alive and feed to his horrible pet, if the boy would not make it through the night. And then, he grimmly swore to himself, he would let the warg tear him apart, as a punishment for inflicting such ailment on his grandson, committing the worst sin a dwarf could.

There would never be forgiveness for harming a dwarf child.


	20. Third Moon of Winter, Part 15

___(artsie for kotm can be found on deviantart, account gundambaby;)_

_Thank you very much for reading and encouraging =)  
You are true mountain gold hehe!_

* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

**~ Third Moon of Winter 2871 ~**

* * *

The way back to the clearing was longer than Gífli remembered, his heart beating fast in fear of having lost his way; but then he spotted a fire shining through the underwood, and doubled his efforts, Fíli almost slipping from his back, Eflí having a hard time keeping up.

The ponies had not dared to let one foot into the forest, so he had no choice but carry his son, afraid he might slip on the muddy ground and drop Kíli with every step on the way.  
When Gífli had stormed into the tent, gasping for breath, he had not quite believed him, as he yelled the wizard was in the woods, and they had ridden a Warg – the old dwarf sounded like he was completely out of his mind. But since it was the only hope left, Eflí had followed him into the nights, each dwarf carrying a child through the forest, praying to be on time.#

"PALLANDO! HERE WE ARE!", Gífli cried as he entered the clearing, shocked to find it deserted; his heart stopped and turned to stone, seeing the wizard had left.

"But – but ... cursed may all-"

He jumped with fright, as a large hand rested on his shoulder; he turned to see Pallando standing behind him, leaves and twigs stuck in his yellowish beard.

Grinning happily, the wizard greeted the dwarfs, "Welcome my dear friends, I was just looking for at very interesting plants, did you know wartwood still grows- ah, so this is the little you were talking about, very fascinating indeed! Your son Eflí?"

The dwarf nodded, letting the man take his son from his arms, too nervous too answer.

Humming softly, Pallando uncovered Kíli's wound, his face darking for a moment as he carried the boy over to the fire burning in the middle of the clearing.

"Quite a nasty bite! And dripping with maliciousness – how long must hatred have festered in somebody's heart, to cause such evil. I have not seen such deeds in a long time... Let's see what I can do to save you, young dwarf."

The dwarfs watched in silence, as the wizard pulled bottles and boxes from his bag, opening some, discarding others, rubbing various ointments on Kíli, whistling a cheerful tune; Fíli started to doubt he was a healer at all, for he seemed to have no idea what he was doing.

Pallando took a blue piece of cloth from his bag, and draped it around the still child; when he took up the knife from his belt, Efli started to protest.

"What are you doing!"

The wizard smiled warmheartedly, answering truthfully, "I am going to shave his beard and hair. It needs to be done, to save the child's life."

"But- but you can't do that!", Gífli howled, horrified at the though of having his grandson's beard cut off. A dwarf's beard was a sign of honor, a sign of belonging to Mahal – one could not simply cut it off! This was outrageous!

"So would you rather have him keep his hair, that you can bury him with it?", the wizard grumpily replied, grinding the blade, adding in a friendlier voice, "You can trust me and the child will live."  
Eflí looked hesistant, but then nodded at the old man, gesturing his father to accept Pallando's decision, even if it pained him to see his grandson shaved.  
Dark-blond hair fell onto the cloth, as the wizard carefully cut the boy's hair, mumbling foreign words. Tears well up in Fíli's eyes on seeing his brother maltreated – he would be devastated, waking up to find himself bald and beardless! But he would wake up and be healthy, like the wizard had promised, so the trade was acceptable.

Pallando saw all the hair neatly put onto the cloth, tied it up and threw it into the blazing fire. A foul smell wafted over the clearing as the flames were tinted green for a moment; Gífli stepped in front of his son and grandson, not trusting the wizard's doing, even though he could feel the last evil possessing him fleeing in horror.

The old man dusted himself as he got up, lifting the dwarf boy up with ease, returning him to his father. Eflí gladly accepted his son, pressing the sleeping child against his chest. His son was going to live! His cheeks red and he was breathing softly, the wound on his hand nothing more but a fading scratch.

"How can I ever thank you! I shall pay you in silver and gold and iron - anything you wish!"

The wizard smiled tiredly, shooing the dwarfs back into the forest to return to their own camp and leave him alone.

"You shall not pay me in metal or anything else Eflí, just see those children grow up and watch over them – and now, you go to sleep as will I, for we all will need our strength soon."

The dwarfs were to happy to listen to the wizard's warning words; only Fíli looked back at him, wondering, as he sat on his grandfather's back, as the clearing faded in the dark.

* * *

Kíli yawned, pulling the blanket up, mumbling half asleep, "I feel cold... Did the fire go out Fíli?"

His brother squirmed, trying to turn so he was not facing his little brother and pretended to be asleep; irritated, Kíli poked his brother in the back, wondering why he was avoiding him.

"Fíli, why is it so cold? Hey, why are you not looking at me?"

The blond boy rolled over, sighing, a look of brave sadness in his eyes as he mustered the courage to tell his brother the horrible truth, "Kíli... you were very sick... and ... uh... I... how shall I ... _You'rebaldImsorrywehadtolethimcu tyourhairoryouwouldhavedieds orry_!"

The little boy blinked at his brother confused, not quite understanding what his brother was saying; then, slowly, his good hand came up to touch his face, then his head.  
Fíli covered his ears, waiting for inevitable clamour.

"_**My – my beard! W-where is my beard! And my hair! UUUUAAAAAHAHAHAH! I AM BALD!**_"

Alerted by the boy's cry, Eflí and Gífli burst into the tent, their axes ready to kill whomever dared to threaten the children. Seeing Kili's tear-streaked face, they dropped their weapons, and tried to comfort him clumsily, patting his bald head, reassuring him "Your hair will soon start to grow again my son – and look at me, I'm bald for hundred years now, and proud to be – Your new beard will be even more beautiful, and so long you will have to braid it so you will not trip on it!"

"No! No! I do not want to be bald!"

"Oh Kíli, it won't be long, I promise – and if you wear your hood, nobody will know the difference when we come home-"  
Eflí wanted to hug his son, but he would not let him touch him, pulling his hood down as far as it would go.

"NO! I will not gone home! Buhuhuhu! NO! Not like this!"

"Kíli, please, be reasonable! We have to go home, and I promise you nobody will dare to look at you – how about we fix that sword of yours when we get there?"

"NO! NO! Leave me alooooone! _buhuhuhu_!"

It was of no use, the boy was inconsolable; no offerings of sweets nor gifts nor promises would stop his bitter tears. Eventually he fell asleep, still weak from the sickness and exhausted by grief, clutching the hood so it would not bare his shame. Tucking his son in, Eflí shared a helpless look with his father, not knowing what to do to ease his son's pain. Who would have guessed the joy of Kíli recovering would so soon be darkened by misery again?

* * *

Whilst the elders whispered in the tent, thinking about how to console the griefing child, Fíli had an idea, and sneaked out behind their backs to see the wizard in the woods.

Pallando apparently had await him, smoke his pipe peacefully, resting against his Warg and beaming at the boy as he entered the clearing. Patiently he listed to his plea, before taking his knife, and cutting his hair and beard, just like he had done for the other dwarf child.

Whistling cheerfully, he tried to cheer the child up as he worked away, "You are a very good brother, I know how much a beard means to a dwarf – much like a staff to a wizard. He is not complete without his staff! But it is not the source of power, oh no, just like your beard is not what makes you a dwarf, hehe."

Blond locks fell like snow flakes, whilst the boy tried to not cry; it surely had seemed a much nobler idea before, but he bite his lips and let the wizard finish his work and throw his hair into the fire, so nobody could use it ever to enchant him.

"There, all done – now, now, do not cry, your hair will grow back in time, and you have done good my dear child.", Pallando said, lifting the boy to his lap and comforting him.  
He knew the boy would grow up to be a fine dwarf, and he wished he would be there to see his progress, and guide him on his ways; but the wizard knew his fate was of different kind, and had already set out to find him. The old man realized had little time left – maybe, too little to do what needed to be done!


	21. First Moon of Spring

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

* * *

Gífli stepped out of the tent, stretching his legs, ready to take over his watch, rubbing his son's shoulder as he passed him. The old dwarf was not surprised to still find Pallando sitting by the fire, for the wizard seemed to need little to no sleep, and often sat the whole night up, watching the stars move. Since he tended to wander off, instantly fascinated by some plant or insect, the old man could not be trusted to watch the camp. But Gífli did not mind his company, if only his giant Warg were not constantly by his side!

"Shouldn't you be heading home by now? We left swanfleet two days ago – or do you plan to come with us all the way to Dunland?", the dwarf addressed the old man in a friendly way. Since the children were healthy and a huge Warg guarded them, the company had been able to traveled the main route, and within two weeks they should be seeing the hills of their home. But Gífli doubted the old man would journey to Dunland with them; so he was curious where the wizard might be headed, for he had not heard of him traveling for the last seventy years.

"Indeed, I will travel with you for a bit longer, old friend... For a time far long I have hidden in the bog, and part of me wants to return there, for I have not know such peace and harmony, before I live in the swanfleet. But alas, my fate is not supposed to end there – one more journey lies ahead of me, before I shall finally rest."

Pallando looked a bit saddened, as he recalled his now abandoned hut in the bog. For almost fifty years, he had lived an undisturbed and content life, doing as he pleased, known only to few dwarfs who occasionally came to ask for his help as a healer, most regarding him as a human.

Little did they know about his journey old as time; even Gífli, who he had known all his life, did not know his true age. So many years had passed since he came too middle earth! So many years he could recall! He rememebered, now long ago, in what might have been his youth, he had once gone to the east with one true friend, and one who called himself one - a tale as old as the world itself.

Together they had seen many wonders and found brave friends; but no beauty nor friendship could ever heal the betrayal of his friend Curumo. The white wizard had left his friends, the two blue wizards whom had sworn to aid and serve him, behind in Mordor, trapped in dungeons, to be tormented in any possible way. They had lived only thousand years in middle earth, and with horror the Ithryn Luin realized, whilst their souls were immortal, their human bodies could suffer and perish. Oh, Pallando remembered all too well how their spirits were broken, as their bodies formed their minds, twisted and torn barely human, never healing, never spared.

After hundreds of years of torture, they managed to flee from their prison – but Pallando knew, they did not escape for their own power. The darkness which had captured them wished for them to return to fairer lands, to carry its seed into the hearts of people; so he and Alatar decided to not seek the company of mortal beings, choosing to live in hiding, not using their powers, until the time had come to fight the last fight.

Alatar had stayed in the east, wandering the barren lands by himself, to help the creatures wishing to fight the darkness, whilst Pallando set for the swanfleet, a hermit offering solace to those who seeked for him. He settled close to the new domicile of his former friend, who now called himself Sarumanand was wandering a dark path, so dark he was blinded to all but his growing hunger for power.

Years passed, one like the other, without the white wizard recognizing his old friend, and maybe, if he stayed in the bog, Pallando could have lived forever, ignoring his duty. But he knew, once more he had to face his friend, to end what he had started millenia ago. The blue wizard did not need to gaze into his future to know his death would be painful, and possibly in vain. But he did not question the usefulness of his fate, considering himself a rain drop – he alone would not extinguish the fires of hell, but maybe, if many others would also be courageous, the fires of Mordor would eventually be defeated for once and all.

"Say ... are you going to die?", Gífli asked, trying to sound nonchalant, disturbing the wizard's musing. The dwarf poked the potatoes he had put into the camp fire, to roast them for a late night snack; the though of Pallando dying startled him so much he did not know if would be able to eat the potatoes once done.

But the blue wizard merely laughed at his worries, "Anything has to die sometime, not even stone can endure forever! but pray, are _you_ worried for my wellbeing Gífli? I never thought you cared - had you not sworn to kill me, for cutting your grandsons hair and beard?"

"Pah! They look like a human children thanks to you!", Gífli grumbled, using a stick to get a potato out of the fire, "Their mother will be devastated, seeing them sheared like lambs – I can not guarantee for your safety if you come riding with us old friend!"

The black Warg's ears twitched, even in sleep picking up a threat against its master. Gífli did not like to see how intelligent the monster was, at times thinking it was smarter than the wizard himself, just waiting to murder them all in their sleep.  
Pallando did not seem worried by the thought of an angry dwarf woman coming for his head, probably because he only twice had met a female dwarf, "I would love to get to know you daughter-in-law Gífli, but I will only ride with for a few days longer. Then, our ways shall part, for your and families safety. There lies great danger on the path I will be taking.""

The dwarf huffed, annoyed with the wizard's secret-mongering, "Would you mind being less cryptic? If there lies danger ahead, tell me about it – I do not like to ride for my own death if I could be avoiding it!"  
The old man reassured him, patting his black Warg who snarled despite asleep, "Do not worry, as long as I will ride with you, no harm shall befall you or your family."

"And then, when our ways do part - what about you?", Gífli inquired; but the wizard did not answer him, gazing at the stars instead, humming as he smoked his pipe.

The sparkling stars seemed to form a path, leading up to heaven, moving slowly to the west as the night passed on. Soon he would go where the stars went to sleep, back to the place he came from - there was no need to be afraid if one was going home, was there? But if there was not need to afraid Pallando wondered, why could he not fall asleep anymore, scared of even the little death of night? Why did he wish to live more, with every step carrying him towards Isengard?


	22. First Moon of Spring, Part 2

**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
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**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

* * *

"If I have to eat one more damn fish, I promise I go and slay that dragon by myself - if only to eat bread again!"

Balin yelled, wildly gestured with bitten into fish, causing Thorin laugh despite their miserable situation.  
What a sad pair of warriors they were, crouching in a tiny, wet cave, shivering with cold and tired. They had been eating fish for two weeks now, between running, hiding and trying avoiding dwarf patrols. The two dwarfs had been scouting the caves and tunnels for a few days undetected, spying on the dwarfs of Ered Luin; but apparently the dragon knew there still were intruders about, sending more guards to look for them, sending them deeper and deeper into the tunnels. The sly beast was again and again trying to gain control over Thorin's mind, who barely dared to fall sleep anymore, the back of his head full of bumps and sores. Balin's axe might not be good for any fight anymore, but surely it still could almost split a possessed dwarf's head in two!

The heir of the Erebor sighed, eating his fish listlessly, "I sure would not mind a big roasted piece of mutton either my friend – but it is better to eat this strange fish than starve in the caves."  
The white-haired dwarf grimaced, biting into the raw fish, "Bah! I think it's not the dragon driving the Blue Mountain dwarfs mad - it must be constantly eating all that dreadful fish! One has to go insane eating these things – look, it does not even have bones! The saying goes '_A dwarf can go on forever on stubbornness and little bread_' - bread, you hear me, bread! Not _fish_!"

Thorin's sharp ears picked up a far away sound, quickly gesturing Balin to quiet down, "_SH! They are close_!", slowly backing to away from the cave's entrance, hiding in the darkness.  
The Ered Luin dwarfs were patrolling nearby, at least ten of them, armed up to their teeth; no matter how ragged and sick they looked, the two dwarfs of the Erebor did not wish to face them in a fair fight.  
Frist, they had tried to lure patrols away from the dragon, hoping its spell could be broken by distance; but neither great distance nor a solid knock on the head freed the dwarfs from the dragon's possession, and more than once they barely escaped within an inch of their lives.

And as long as the dwarf patrols were looking for them, Balin and Thorin could not leave the tunnel system connecting the old iron mines with the upper caverns; even the river was guarded day and night, making an escape impossible. And facing the dragon meant certain death – if not by the creature itself, then by the hundreds of dwarfs trying to kill them if ordered to. Furthermore, Thorin did not trust himself to not fall for the beast's luring voice – in the end, it would be him killing Balin, if they could not find a way out of here!

"We just should bring down the whole mountain on all of them! Damned dragon and damned dwarfs, damned they all should be!", Balin grumbled, wiping his hands on his soiled cloak, which was stiff with dirt and glittering with fish scales. Thorin sighed, sinking to the ground exhausted as the patrol had passed by.  
"That would be murder Balin... Besides, how do you suppose the two of us to bring down the mountain on top of that dragon? Do you plan to spent the next 200 years digging the Ered Luin?"  
The other dwarf chuckled, "If there was some gold down here, why not? Ah, it has been so long since I saw gold! But one will not find any in the Blue Mountains, not nowadays ... If there ever was gold, it long has been gone." Balin looked sad, remembering the riches and wonders he had seen as a child in the treasury of the Erebor; but Thorin looked baffled, realization dawning.  
"Balin – you say there is _no gold_ in the Ered Luin? Literally nowhere? Are you sure? What about the king's treasure? There surely must be some?"

Balin shrugged, curious as to what end the dark-haired dwarf was inquiring him, "It is all gone, they used to trade it for ore and wood. And believe m, I have studied the old journals and plans of the Blue Mountains for a long time! Some of these mountains have are so holey, I'm at times surprised they have not collapsed long ago. The dwarfs of Ered Luin surely looked _anywhere_ for gold, but settled for iron instead, probably envious of our gold in the Erebor."

Thorin crossed his arms, thinking hard. If there was no gold in the Ered Luin – why had the dragon even claimed it? The prince had not dared to set eyes on the creature, but Balin had told him it was a young, fat dragon with enormous wings and an even more enormous appetite, his fangs strong enough to bent iron and steel.  
It had probably come down here for two years ago, and Thorin wondered why he had not left already, as the dwarfs still had not presented him any of the gold, which dragons were so fond of they burnt down whole countries for it. Why was he still here, resting deep below the Blue Mountains, which were worthless to him? Was he hurt? Or just stupid? They had heard him roar, demanding gold and fish constantly. They had seen dwarfs work everywhere, breaking down walls, working in caves and even tunnels - wait, _tunnels_? Why should they be digging in the tunnels, unless...Thorin smiled, a plan slowly forming in his mind. He knew a way to kill the dragon, if Mahal would just bless them with some luck – or, maybe a little bit more than just _some_ luck!

The white-haired dwarf's jaw dropped at the prince's request, thinking him to have once again come under the dragon's influnce as he asked him, a little bit too cheerful, "Dear Balin, say, ... How long do you think it would take us to capture five hundred dwarfs?"


	23. First Moon of Spring, Part 3

_Starting a new job on tuesday! so happy! ^_^ Thank you all for reading and cheering me up!_**  
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**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

* * *

A strange company came riding over the hills, composed of two ponies, carrying two dwarfs and two little children who looked more like human children than dwarfs, and a black Warg tagging along, with an old man trying to catch up, after getting lost studying the common wart frog croaking at the wayside.  
As they came closer, one could hear them talk; mostly the two children arguing, now and then interrupted by an unnerved outcry of the old dwarf, whilste the middle aged dwarf seemed genuinely happy, enjoying the first warm rays of spring, patiently ignoring the squabble surrounding him day and night.

"My beard is already _this l_ong!", Kíli exclaimed, proudly presenting the faintest idea of fuzz growing on his chin. His brother stuck his tongue at him in return, pointing at the two or three yellow hairs growing on his face, calling, "Ha! In your _dreams_! Mine is longer!"

"YOU'RE BOTH SMOOTH AS EGGS AND BALD AS A TREE IN WINTER! SO WILL YOU SHUT UP NOW!"

Gífli almost fell off his pony, trying to knock both children simultaneously on the head, exasperated. Neither the boys' mother nor their father ever were such chatterboxes – so how come these boys would not ever should up! He turned his head to address Pallando, who had climbed back onto his Warg, quietly stuffing his pipe,  
"Hey! Wizard! Is there no spell to get them to shut up – if only for a day!?"

The old man lit his pipe, shaking his head amused, explaining, "I doubt there ever could be a mage powerful enough to do that! But you ought to be careful what you wish for, my friend - magic is a treacherous friend!"

The dwarf huffed, mumbling to himself, "Yes, yes ... But just some quiet would be nice now and then!"  
But he knew in his heart the wizard was right. Magic was too dangerous to ever be used, even if it could save lives and be used for good. For the heart of magic was the longing for power, which corrupted anybody who dared to fool with it.

Pallando had long hesitated to tell Gífli about the nature of his madness, which had almost made him kill his grandsons in Hell, sincerely wishing to lessen his suffering by keeping him ignorant.  
The wizard knew dwarfs were very, very cautious about their true names, guarding them, rarely telling anybody how to address them in Khuzdul, trusting only their lovers and family to keep it safe. So whoever had cursed Gífli had been a person once close too him, close enough to be loved by the dwarf.  
The fading traces of witchery on Gífli were remnants of dwarf magic, crude but still effective, since its user knew Gífli's true name. Therefore, Pallando did not want to tell the bald dwarf the truth about the spell he had been under, afraid knowing that the outrageous betrayal would break Gífli's heart forever.

When finally reveal, Gífli had been more relieved by the truth than hurt at the betrayal, glad it had not been his own wish to hurt his kin. The moment the wizard told him it was a dwarf mage, he knew whom had cursed him; but Gífli did not care, suppressing his memories as they welled up from the past.

As the days passed by though, Gífli found himself brooding more often about his old friend, who apparently still was alive, hiding down in Hell and planning his demise. Eflí Ironeyes had been his best friend when they were young – no, more than a friend, more than a brother! They had shared adventures and happiness, sorrow and joy, and eventually, even their true names. They had been sure to be together till they both grew old and weary and only then they would die in battle, side by side. But alas, as they grew older, Eflí changed, as he discovered his talent for sorcery, and they were becoming more and more distant, their strong friendship and love fading over the years. They tried to stay close at first; but worlds lay between the mindset of an ordinary dwarf, and a dwarf wizard seeking immortality.

After Eflí threatened the council of Ered Luin in an uproar, trying to become the king of the mountains, he was finally banned from the Ered Luin, to never set a foot in the cavern again. For ten years, the two friends had not spoken, both finding love in different places - one had married, the other had found magic, their hearts strangers to another.

Gífli was amongst those who helped to capture the mage, betraying his secret hideout; little did it soothe his guilty feelings that he refused to join the company, who dragged the screaming mage out of the Blue Mountains, and rode east with him, to imprision him in the wilderness. His hands were soiled, but had he not betrayed Eflí, what would have become of the Ered Luin dwarfs?

As the company never returned, the Ered Luin dwarfs choose to believe Eflí Ironeyes had died with them, the memory of his deeds obscured. Gífli moved on, and named his firstborn in honor of friend he had once loved and lost. Other than that, he banned any thought of Eflí Ironeyes from his life, as he had helped ban him from the mountains, not wishing to remember love or hate they shared. But the past would not rest, and one day, he would have to face it, returning to Hell to for once and all times end his friend's miserable, twisted existence.  
But there still was time. Maybe, when Fíli and Kíli were grown up and strong, he would return to Hell and be brave one last time, facing Eflí Ironeyes. But for now, the old dwarf would try to forget Eflí once again, burying his love and guilt in the depths of his heart.

As Fíli and Kíli stared to bicker again, he found it probably would be easy to keep his mind from brooding; for as long as his grandsons were by his side, he surely would not have moments time to rest. Oh, it would be a long, long ride to Dunhill with these two arguing, long indeed!

* * *

"I think the fish is getting to your head, your highness... Do you not think walking into the dragon's cave might be a quicker, and more effective death? I would _hate_ to see you chopped to pieces, by angry dwarfs who think you are a troll. You know, it is such a messy, painful death-"

Thorin interrupted his sarcastic friend impatiently, "No, you do not understand Balin! Up till now, we tried to free the Ered Luin dwarfs from the dragon's spell, and we failed miserably. But we shall not try to do so any more. We only need to imprison them. The dragon can not leave his cave for he is too fat – he has to rely on the dwarfs to bring him food. So, if were to capture all Ered Luin dwarfs, the dragon would starve!"

Balin did not say a word for quite a time; when he spoke, his voice was calm, only the slightest trace of irony in his words.

"I see. So, we capture five hundred dwarfs. Most of them armed and insane. And imprison them. We have no idea where or how, but I think we could do that. And then we wait for a hundred years or so, until the dragon has starved. For I do not know how long it will take to starve him, but I have heard some dragons go without food for thousand years. But we only need to be patient. And meanwhile take care of five hundred dwarfs, who will starve unless the two of us will provide them with food. And still want to kill us. But surely, this is just a minor setback. We merely have to wait."

The dark-haired dwarf cursed softly, seeing the flaws of his plan pointed out easily. He indeed had not considered a dragon's ability to sleep for many years without needing nourishment. They both sat on the floor, one thinking hard, the other pouting, when suddenly Balin jumped up excitedly, an idea forming to his mind.  
"We do not need to starve him! Ha! No! If you are right Thorin, and the dragon his too fat to leave his cave – then all we need to do is bring down the cave on him!"

Now it was Thorin's turn to be skeptical, raising an eyebrow at his exalted friend, still sulking about the other's treatment of his plan. "And how do we do that? We have already been through this and-"

The white-haired dwarf was beaming with smugness, explaining, "By starving him!"

Thorin huffed, shaking his head, "Pardon me, my friend, I do not following you – how exactly is this going to bring down the cave onto the dragon again?"

He had not thought Balin could manage to look more selfcongratulatory, but the dwarf with ease managed to, as he proudly declared his plan, "We starve the creature some, and then we taunt him. For he is young and impatient, and if we taunt him enough, he surely will wreak havoc in his cave, trying to come after us, thus bringing down the mountain on himself!"

"Did you not say, that my plan of starving the beast was futile, mere moments ago?"

The other dwarf stroked his matted white beard, smiling broadly, "Sure it was – for _you_ wanted to wait for the dragon to starve to death, which might take years. But since he is greedy and inexperienced, I think if we just _tell_ him he is so hungry he might die, the creature might believe it and go wild!"

Thorin crossed his arms, sneering, "Ah, I see, excellent... But please, tell me again – how do we starve the dragon, dear Balin?"

The younger dwarf's complacence was unbearable. "I figured you would ask this, dear Thorin! Well, we do starve him by capturing the Ered Luin dwarfs and locking them up, so the creature will not have any food!"

"And pray tell, how do we capture five hundred dwarfs, dear Balin, most of them armed and trying to kill us?"

Balin shrugged, his grin never faltering, "Well, I thought you would know, since it was your plan to begin with, your majesty?"

Thorin briefly considered hitting Balin, just so to get that smug grin of his face. His friend was sly, and always won an argument, belittling him no matter how hard Thorin tried to be smarter. He was pretty sure that Balin had already thought of a plan how to imprison all the dwarfs of Ered Luin, but first wanted to hear his idea - just as too make fun of him again, for not thinking it through. At times he wondered what he had done to deserve such a 'friend', as he went about to explain his idea, sure to be interrupted by roaring laughter halfway.


	24. First Moon of Spring, Part 4

**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

* * *

A guilty conscience was a luxury, and he had no time for luxury; but Thorin could not help feeling bad, carrying the struggling child through the tunnels, heart_-_piercing cries of a desperate mother haunting him.  
Balin was right, taking the children and women was the easiest way to separate the Ered Luin dwarfs – but he surely did not like being a kidnapper of innocent children. For the dragon could control a dwarf's mind, but the pain and desperation at having ones children taken could not be suppressed by the beast.

Twelve dwarf children had already been taken by them – from their sleeping mothers, whilst carrying ore through the tunnels, most of them too weak to even cry for help, caught in a dreamlike stupor as they were tied up and hidden in caverns. This one was a little fighter, trying to free himself scratching and biting his captor, who tried to apologize to the child, whom his mother called Ori, "Forgive me, my little one! But soon you and your people will be free _OUCH! _Apparently Balin was right - you Ered Luin dwarf are quite ingrateful!"

Shouldering the boy to get his teeth away from his own hands, Thorin realized the 'little' boy was probably older than he had thought; he seemed to be at least fifteen, but weighed less than a ten-year-old child. It grieved the heir of Erebor to see how thin and tiny the children of the Blue Mountain were, skinnier even than his nephews living in the barren Dunland.  
He could recall times when dwarf parents would brag about their children's portliness, his distant cousin Bombur being considered the prettiest dwarf baby of all, with not only one double chin, not two, but three bulging beneath his reddish beard. And now, merely fifthy years later, there seemed to be no healthy, well-fed dwarf child in all of middle earth left - times had changed for the worse, in almost any aspect.

"Quick! In here!", Balin cried, stepping out of a hardly visible cave, urging Thorin to follow him. They had agreed one would go and sneak into the caverns of the Ered Luin dwarfs, snatching the children, whilst the other would capture the women wandering about who where looking for their children. There lay no honor in their doing, but it was their only chance to win without killing themselves.  
More and more dwarfs were swarming the tunnels, looking for their families and for the 'trolls' taking them away, and judging by the dragon's angered cries, some of them were not completely under his spell anymore, disobeying his orders. They had stopped digging for gold, and had not brought him any fish in two days – his friend's plan was working better than Thorin had thought it would.

Balin tied the boy up against another dwarf child, satisfied with their progress, "We have now got thirteen children, twelve women and three warriors, hehe! The whole mountain his crawling with dwarfs – but I don't think we shall need many more hostages, to bring down the dragon. Hear how it's roaring! I think we have quite angered our friend, hahaha!"

* * *

The whole mountain seemed to shake, as Faurim cried out, "WHERE IS MY FISH! FILTHY CREATURES! I AM _HUUUUUUNGRY_!"

But no dwarf came running at his cry, nobody ready to serve dinner and clean his scales. How could they dare to disobey him! The dragon felt them slipping further and further from his control, the worry for their loved ones stronger than his displeased orders. Oh, if only he could spit fire, he'd roast the rotten creatures in their tunnels!

But he stemmed from water dragons, and fire was not his friend. The forest fire on the day he arrived in the Mountains had terrified him, causing him to crawl deep into the mountain, without once thinking about how to get out again - and now, he was stuck, his body too enormous to fit the narrow tunnels! Faurim regretted ever coming to the Ered Luin, now considering it his grave; for if he could no longer get the dwarfs to bring him food, what would become of him?

"_COME HERE YOU DWARFS! COME TO YOUR MASTER! FEAR ME AND RETURN!_"

His roaring sounded more fearful than terrifying, and Faurim realized his power was fading, as he became more and more scared – soon, the dwarfs might free themselves, and come after him! They would hack him appart, like they had done to his mother! His eyes went were wide with terror, and he screamed "NO! NO! I SHALL NOT SUFFER THIS! _RETURN YOU REPULSIVE CREATURES! RETURN_!"

But no chafed feet came running to feed him, no filthy dwarf showing up in his cavern; the absence of his servants cared Faurim more than the ragging fire had – he had to get out! Now! He had to leave, or he would die down here! Either starving to death or murdered by dwarfs too strong to control for him! He had to leave!

* * *

"Fíli? Do you think uncle Thorin will be home already? He said he would return in spring."

The other boy shrugged, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders, wondering if the tent was waterproof as dark spots formed above him "Hm... I do not know Kíli, but I think he might still be traveling. It's still cold at night, spring has not come yet."

They both quietly stared at the tent roof, listening to the snoring of their grandfather and the monotone noise of raindrops hitting the tent. After a while, Kíli spoke again, wondering, "Do you think he will be home for my birthday?"

The elder boy smiled in the dark, knowing of how much importance his birthday was to his little brother. "I'm sure he will be back by then, don't worry. And this year, you will have a great birthday party!"

"Really? A real party? You are not making fun of me?", Kíli asked doubtingly, remembering his last birthday. His birthday was on the day of last snow, in the height of spring, and marked the beginning of the plowing and sowing season. Often there was so much work to do, that the little dwarf's birthday was forgotten til late in the evening, despite all efforts. So it was last year, and all years before that. The embarrassed silence, the makeshift presents, the congratulations sounding like apologies – and no party, not even a special dinner, and no cake! Only Fíli had tried make up for the adults forgetfulness, even giving his brother a wooden sword and two cookies he had saved for the day, celebrating with him; but a birthday party without any guests or a cake was no real birthday party for a dwarf child, and Kíli pitied himself for his impractical birthday.

Fíli nodded, sounding earnest, squeezing his brother's hand, "I promise! You will have guests, and a cake and lots of presents - and then, when summer comes, we go with uncle Thorin when he leaves Dunland!"

Kíli tried to not get his hopes too high, at the thought of just for _once_ having a birthday party like Fíli did get every year. For his brother had been born during the harvest feast, and therefore always had a splendid birthday, with lots of cake and songs and gifts even from strangers, since everybody was tipsy and generous after a successful harvest.

But in the middest of fantasizing about the gifts he might get on his party, a horrible realization came Kíli's mind.  
"But Fíli, how could we go with uncle Thorin? We have no swords! And we have not learned how to fight at all this winter!", he cried, tears of disappointment welling up his eyes.  
Fíli was dumbfounded, lying in shocked silence in the dark, seeing how Kíli was right. Their swords were still rusty and broken, and they had not spent one single day learning how to use real weapons! Now there were only one or two months left until their uncle's return - and he would find them still being useless little children!

Kíli sobbed quietly, seeking for his brother's soothing embrace, "I do not waaaant tooo waaait! I want to go now!"  
Fíli agreed, but tried to be sensible, seeing it his duty as the elder brother to think things through, "Kíli, do not cry, it will be alright – and maybe, uncle Thorin will stay! Did he not say, if he would not find a company to go for the Erebor, he would stay in Dunland? Then he could teach us how to fight! Say, how is that?"

The crying stopped, as the younger dwarf pondered his brother's words.  
Fíli almost thought Kíli had fallen asleep, when he abruptly asked him, his voice as sombre as the darkness surrounding them, "And what if he has found a company, and goes to the Erebor without us?"  
Not even Fíli could think of any reasurring answer to this question, as they lay below their blankets, staring at the leaking tent roof with big eyes, worried they already were to late to join their uncle on his quest, unable to fall asleep.


	25. First Moon of Spring, Part 5

**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

"So this is ... goodbye?", Gífli asked, looking at his boots, which were in dire need of a cobbler, as to not let the wizard see the sadness in his eyes. He had gotten used to the old man's strange ways, and found he would miss him, all the more since this goodbye would be for once and all times. In a few hours, the dwarfs would leave the North-South Road, whilst Pallando would continue following it to the gates of Isengard.  
The old man's secretiveness had annoyed Gífli at first, but now he was almost grateful Pallando did not tell him what awaited him beyond the walls of the great fortress. The dwarf had set eyes on Isengard once in his younger years, from a great the distance, and shuddered at the memory. The fortress had looked serene in the sunlight, but still had send shivers down his spine. It was a bad place he felt - beautiful and mighty, but reeking of death and murder.

"You still could go to Dunland with us, if you would like to. I'd even see to my daughter-in-law not hurting you _too_ much, only a little - doesn't this sound good?"

Pallando smiled, quietly cleaning his pipe as the sun rose. Breakfast was already cooking, porridge boiling on the fire, the last, slightly moldy slices of bread waiting to be roasted. It was time to go home, their provisions running out; thought there probably would not be much better nourishment awaiting them in Dunland.

Looking towards the east, Gífli's face turned from sorrow to scorn, cursing the land that lay ahead of them, "Maybe, we all just should set out and ride to the mountains in the west! Ha! Dunland, what a place to return to! What a place to raise children! Say friend, have you ever been to the west?"

The dwarf did not understand why the wizard was laughing at his words so hard tears came to his eyes – he had not meant his question to be humoresque, and was indignant, thinking he was being mocked.

"What is so funny, he? I bet you have never travel farther than the shire- Ah, good morning son! Say, where are the two demons? I can still hear my own words on his beautiful morning?"

Eflí smiled, greeting his father and Pallando as he stepped out of the tent into the cool spring morning, "They are still asleep, and I think we should let them rest some more. They don't seem to be sleeping too well lately - I wonder what might be bother them?"

Gífli huffed annoyed, filling porridge into a bowl and handing it his son, "Can't you guess it? It's about Thorin... They are afraid he will not return to Dunland, but ride for the Erebor instead."

Eflí's good mood was gone in a moment, his face darkening as he swore, "Him again... Even when he's gone, he still disturbs peace and quiet, like all Erebor dwarfs do - forgive me, dear Dís - oh, if he never were to return to Dunland, but choose to live somewhere else and leave my family alone!"

Gífli agreed, hoping his son's wish would come true; but to their surprise, Pallando spoke up to defend the the dwarfs of Erebor, his tone no longer calm and soothing, "Aren't you ashamed, cursing your own brethren my friends? When the time comes, you will be glad for any warrior fighting at your side, so better watch your words! Brothers should be no strangers to another – but if you do not change your ways, I'm afraid your people will not last for much longer!"

The two dwarfs stared at the wizard baffled, confused by his sudden outburst. As Kíli and Fíli yawning stepped out of the tent, Pallando changed back to his usual quiet, cheerful self, welcoming them as if he had not seen the children for days, and not mere hours, whilst Eflí and Gífli shrugged at each other, not understanding the wizard's warning.

The breakfast went on as if nothing had happened, and soon they went about packing the ponies, only a dead fire and trampled grass left as witness of their camp.

The parting of the company was short, but tearful, for Fíli and Kíli were cry as hard as if they had known the peculiar wizard all their lives, and not for just a few weeks. Eflí now and then suspiciously rubbed his eyes whilst wishing Pallando the best, whilst Gífli blatantly ignored the tears in his eyes, doing his best to sound like a grumpy, uncaring dwarf, practically shooing his old friend away; but he would watch him ride off, until the Blue Wizard faded in the distance, to never be seen again.

* * *

Pallando never did not look after he said goodbye, fearing his resolution would be shaken, seeing how he easily could turn back and continue a life suddenly so worth living.  
For what was fate but a choice of the heart? To face death, to live on – why couldn't he ...?  
The wizard shook his head at his fearful self, smiling as he rode towards Isengard, humming a song the people of middle earth used to sing when he was young.  
Life was good, but only if it had meaning.  
And he knew where the meaning of his life was waiting for him.


	26. First Moon of Spring, Part 6

**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ First Moon of Spring 2872 ~**

"You should probably tell her you love her, my friend. She is still young, and with her husband dead – you know?", Thorin said softly, flexing his hands, which still were raw and stiff from the bonds.  
Balin gave him a venomous look, but did no reply, instead turning his eyes back to the feast at the other end of the cave.

Well, feast was a rather big word for such a meager celebration – there was no beer, no wine, no singing, no laughter. Balin found he had been to merrier funerals in his lifetime – but then again, this feast was for the living as for the dead, an unfortunate mix to begin with. To honor the dead and celebrate their victory did not go well together, for their was equal reason for rejoice and to despair this night.

The dragon was dead, and the dwarfs were freed from their prison – but so many were missing, so many families lost in the depths! Counting the Ered Luin dwarfs assembled in the main hall, Balin found at least hundred-forty missing, and no child older than six years present. Just how many children had died in those two bitter years? The white-haired dwarf shuddered as remembered the legion of cries echoing the mountain, as the dwarfs came back to their senses, finding their beloved dead and dust, their bodies discarded like waste, thrown into an abandoned cave without a proper burial.

The dragon had raged in his cave, all the more as Balin called him names, daring to get close enough to the beast to have it see him, getting it to ram its body deep into the tunnels so it got stuck, trying to get the dwarf mocking him. Driven insane by anger and fear, the beast unwittingly brought about its own demise, almost killing Balin too, who escaped within an inch of his life as the cave and the tunnels surrounding it started to crumble. Thorin was still quite angry with him, for he had been left behind, bound to a rock and gagged, whilst Balin went by himself, to finish what they had started. The dark-haired dwarf had been ranting and raving as his friend returned wounded to free him, Balin's left arm broken, his face ashen from the fear he had just went through.

Balin found it was of little use explaining to his fuming friend why he had left him behind; Thorin did not see, that the closer he would have gotten to the dragon, the more likely he would have fallen for its spell, thus endangering their mission. Stubborn as he was, Thorin would not admit the his friend was right, hurt inside and feeling like a coward, hiding from a battle - he was a warrior, and shamed by Balin's well-meant trickery.

Maybe, Balin should have told his prince the truth, to make him feel better – but he feared his friend would not have understood his true motivation either. No, it would not have made things easier, Balin realized. For telling Thorin that there had been no_ need_ to enrage the dragon any further, but Balin had wished to hurry its downfall, might have ended their friendship. Thorin would have thought his friend wanted the victory for himself, seeking to becoming king himself - his prince would have call him a traitor, impuslive and mistrustful as he was at times, not believing Balin would always be loyal to him, his motivation not ambition but love.

For what did Thorin know of the pains of love? Never would he have believed Balin's reason to be the fright of a woman's scorn! His prince would never comprehend, how even after sixteen years, a wound of rejection might still fester. And Balin could find no words to explain how Rés blank eyes, who did not wish to recognize him, made facing an angry dragon easy in comparison.

"Should_ I_ tell her you still love her?", Thorin asked Balin, interrupting his dark musings, teasing him mercilessly. Balin huffed, turning away from the other dwarf, as to not have him see him blush, "Pah! Who would want such an unfaithful, mean spirite... beautiful... wife! Besides, it's no use, she is not for me... And_ you_ helping _me _court? Ha! I'd rather ask a troll for help!"

Thorin nodded, watching the dwarf women of the Ered Luin braid each others hair, looking lovely as they sat close to the fire, now all washed and wearing clean dresses, embellished with jewellery. Seeing his friend also watch them longingly, the dark-haired dwarf shamelessly exploited his friend's weakness, taunting him,  
"Anyway, you would probably need two trolls, if you just wanted to get her to listen to _you_..."

"Don't you **dare** insulting her! She is a _lady_! And what do you mean by _two_ trolls, hu?", Balin cried, poking Thorin's chest, demanding an explanation.  
But the heir of the Erebor only smiled cryptically, and walked over to the Ered Luin dwarfs, who friendly welcomed their savior, who left his friend behind, to let him sort out his feelings on his own.

Many of the elders of the Ered Luin had died, and with them the sentiment against the Erebor dwarfs, or it seemed. As they gathered, to leave the cursed tunnels of the dragon's lair, Thorin had eavesdropped a few young dwarfs talking about offering him the regality of the Blue Mountains; whilst this did not mean much, youngsters talking about politics, it was a good beginning. Maybe now that their people were decimated, the Ered Luin dwarfs would be more open to strangers settling in the mountains – at least until Thorin could claim back the Erebor for his people.

"Would you like some water?"

"Some bread?"

"Look! I found some potatoes, they might still be good!"

Thorin was deeply moved by the Ered Luin dwarfs offering him their,best as he sat down among them; they were generous, despite having little to eat themselves, their pantries ruined by two years of mold, mice and the occasional visit of a hungry Balin.

The small boy whom he had capture the day before came over, and tugged at the seam of Thorin's coat, beamed at him as he handed him a piece of fresh bread, glazed with honey.

"Uncle Thorin, here for you!"

Thorin felt a pang in his heart, being addressed in such a familiar way, wondering how his dear nephews were doing. He looked sadly at the slice of bread, praying Fíli and Kíli also had enough to eat.

"Thank you very much, my dear boy. Let us share, you surely must be hungry too?"

"Oh yes, I am uncle Thorin! But mommy said I-" he explained eagerly, only to be swiftly interrupted by his mother, who started scolding him. Pulling her son's ear until he squeaked, she bowed in front of Thorin, her long braid almost touching the floor.

"**Ori**! It is_ KING _Thorin! Please, do forgive my son, your highness! He is still very young, and is constantly embarrassing his mother with his bad manners!"

The dark-haired dwarf stared at the resolute woman baffled, too dumbfounded for words. The Ered Luin dwarfs took Thorin's shocked face for surprise, and winked at each other as they also bowed to him, calling his name, "Long live King Thorin of the Ered Luin! Long live the king!"

Thorin stood there like a statue, his eyes wide with shock as he looked at mother and son, suddenly understanding Balin's misery. For Ori's mother was nobody else than Rés - so this was why she was _'not meant for him'_!

Whilst apologizing inwardly to his friend for taunting him, Thorin tried to think of a proper king's speech. Horrified on finding himself crowned without any ceremony or preperation, he half wished the dragon not to be dead and stir again beneath the mountains, to save him from the embarrassment of making a clumsy speech on the go. He had never held a speech without at least ten sheets of notes! Seeing Balin grin at him, gloating from the other side of the cave, surely did not help; taking a deep breath, Thorin prayed Mahal would help him, as he addressed his subjects for the first time, nervous and scared looking at three hundred intent faces.

"Uh- My dear people, I am very honored to – uh – be here tonight- we all have been through a lot of – erh- bad things lately. I hope, I shall – uh- guide you to better – erh - lands? No, days, to better days, and hope soon the glory of our people shall be – erh, restored. Tonight we shall think of our - brethern? - loved ones, of our loved us, and remember their - their, uh, their love. And- uh, let us work hard, uh, and stand together – we killed the dragon, so, uh, we shall never be enslaved again! Long live the dwarfs of the Ered Luin!"

Thorin punched his clenched fist in the air, and after an awkward moment of silence, the Ered Luin dwarfs started to cheer, repeating his last words, crying "Long live the dwarfs of the Ered Luin! Long live the people of the Blue Mountain!"

Balin was rolling on the floor with laughter, unnoticed by any dwarf but Thorin, who silently swore to get back at his friend - but only after he had helped him to settle down as a king. For Thorin had learned many a thing on his wanderings, but unfortunately, as he realized panicking... _He had not learned how to be a king!_


	27. Second Moon of Spring

**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ Second Moon of Spring 2872 ~  
**

* * *

Thorin briefly considered taking his ceremonial axe and go on a rampage, if only to stretch his legs and move around a bit. But even if he would go and slay most dwarfs present, his courtiers probably would have made him sit through the banquet afterwards, all by himself, devotedly wiping the blood of his gold and silver armor.

It was long past midnight, and there was no end in sight to this complimentary dinner - it would probably continue until sun rise Thorin was afraid. Even Balin seemed to despair, running out of niceties to keep the dreary conversation with an elderly Ered Luin dwarf going, whose two sons had already fallen asleep listening to their father's old stories over and over again, their red and silver breads dipping into the leftovers on their plates.

One month had passed since the dragon's demise, but the two dwarfs from the Erebor thought it would have been better if the beast had eaten them, sparing them the fate of being honored and titled.  
Thorin shuddered at the thought of the next morning to come and with it recurrence of the court ceremonial. Had he guessed what it meant to be King of Durin's Folk, he surely would never have accepted the title! The heir of the Erebor had spent so many years trying to win back his own kingdom, that he had not found much time to prepare for his duty; he did not recall many details of his father's routine as a king, but could no imagine it to have been this tiring.

"Maybe this is why father went insane...", Thorin muttered to himself, raising his cup to the hundredth toast in his honor, grimacing at his faithful subjects. The Ered Luin dwarfs had recovered their home with frightening zeal, working day and night to refurbish their caverns and prepared the king's hall with majestic splendor. The dwarfs of the Blue Mountain took royalty very serious in times of crises, and having a king like in the good old times seemed to reassure them; so they demanded Thorin to be in king in the old right, no matter how much he protested against the treatment.

The Blue Mountain dwarfs expected their king to lead them out of their misery, and therefore he had to accept all the honors they were willing to lay upon him, as payment for such a severe deed.  
Gold enwrought clothes, shoes with silver ornaments, a crown of gold and diamond – everything he would get, their usual scorn for gold forgotten; but quiet and solitude Thorin would not receive. Signing documents, delivering speeches, holding councils, making plans, banquets, ceremonies, dances - oh, what would he give to just be an ordinary blacksmith again, free to wander as he pleased! But he had courtiers now who would, in an annoyingly unobtrusive way, hover around him, waiting to serve him; worst of all was a grey-haired youngster called Dori, who seemed to wish to wait upon him even when he slept, startling Thorin every night as he stood by his bed like a ghost.

Balin on the other hand had thought the Ered Luin dwarfs' obsession with their new king amusing – but only until he also came under its influence. No more sleeping in, no more unobserved snacks, no more wandering the mountains for hours, lost in thought, without anybody accompanying him; now he had duties, a fact the white-haired dwarf did not enjoy. He even was rebuked if he talked to Thorin the way he was used to - by mere children non the less!  
Surely the Ered Luin dwarfs had long discussed of how to properly treat their old acquaintance, who had come to their rescue, and had decided to see him as if not as a royal, at least as a noble.  
But instead of feeling honored, Balin just waited for a moment alone with Thorin to say goodbye, fleeing this dreadful place, where he was not even allowed to braid his own beard anymore!

* * *

"Maybe the sword is not the right weapon for you my son.", Eflí sighed, taking a close look at Kíli's right foot. The cut was not as deep as is seemed, but the little dwarf would not stop crying - though more for frustration than pain. Two weeks go, he and his brother had finally, finally started to learn how sword fight; but as far as Kíli was concerned, there was little to no progress.

Fíli stood behind his little brother, trying to hide his sword behind his back, as if ashamed for his talent, at the same time sympathizing with his brother whilst waiting impatiently for his father to teach him more. The elder dwarf boy had picked up the sword with ease, and rejoiced in the training, whilst his brother could not hold even the smallest metal sword for long and ended up hurting himself constantly. If Fíli did not carry one blemish, dodging and parrying as if he had never done anything else, Kíli was covered in bruises and cuts, miserable and disappointed with himself.

Having stepped outside as she heard her child cry, Dís tried to soothe her youngest son.  
"Now Kíli, my little amber stone, do not cry - maybe there is some other weapon you might want to learn?"  
"But mother! A warrior _has_ to use a sword!", the boy cried, but did not resist her pull him onto her lap, as they watch his brother and father continue their training.

Dís did not like to see her sons learn the craft of destruction, but did not dare to let the children wander off from the cave on their own, fearing an Warg attack anytime now, even in broad daylight. She knew how much it pained her child to not be able to follow his brother's steps; Frerin had suffered the same, watching his elder brother Thorin succeed with ease when he struggled.  
"You are still so young my little Kíli, not even eight winters old - there is still much time left for you to become a warrior. A not all warriors use a sword or a axe my dear. Maybe, you should try the bow?"

Kíli seemed reluctant, looking at his mother with doubtful eyes, "A bow? Is that even a proper weapon?"  
Dís laughed, hugging her son as she explained to him, "Now, I do not know much of war... But a well placed arrow has ended many a battle I think. Say, will you not at least try it?"

"Maybe... But only if I may learn the sword too!", Kíli exclaimed stubbornly, promising himself to become a great swordsman – greater than Fíli for sure!

* * *

Thorin enjoyed the heavy rain falling down onto him, washing away his weariness. Even the heavy crown seemed lighter in the open air he found, as he walked over to a group of dwarfs arguing with a man, who now and then spit onto the ground, standing protectively in front of a cart.

"Your highness! This is not a task fit for a king! You mustn't- Stop! _Your highness_!", the courtier cried, seeing his king soil the rim of his coat, trudging through the mud happily, ruining his fine leather boots beyond repair. Thorin growled at the younger dwarf, who came running after him and even dared to take his arm, "It is no task for a king to sit idle inside, and have no idea what his people are doing! And now get your hands off me!"

Offended, the young dwarf Dori stopped for a moment, before deciding to nevertheless follow his king, though deeply disappointed at his non-regal behavior. But maybe his highness would soon be in need of his assistance, and would come to see how right his servant was about his duties.

Thorin choose to ignore the dwarf following him like a shadow, interfering with the argument between the Ered Luin dwarfs and the man, shouting "What is going on here!"

The Ered Luin dwarfs quickly bowed, their eyes avoiding Thorin's, as they tried to explain, "Your highness, this man refuses to give us meat and eggs for the usual price! He is demanding an exorbitant price!"

The man snorted, wiping his nose on his sleeve, indignant about the accusation, "What you're say? Her me asks less from you than I would get on a market, and this is your thanks? You should be glad old Sorn still comes, for none of you buy none fo two years!"

"How much do you demand for your goods, man?", Thorin asked him calmly, examining the meat.

"One silver penny and seven brass pennies mister - see, all good quaility! All fine and fresh!"

"One silver penny and one brass penny.", Thorin bargained, who was much used to argue with humans over the price of any good, quickly calculating how much more money the man would have gotten, if he had been smarter than to come to haggle with a dwarf. The man seemed about to retort angrily, when the dwarf's crown caught his eye; Sorn was not a smart man, but he knew better than to anger a royal dwarf, or even a king.

"Hehehe, sure, as you wish- one silver penny and two brass pennies, please mister ehee- your highness ehehe. Always vary nice business with you lads! Sorn sure likes to trade with you - and the place is good here too, isn't it?"

The Ered Luin dwarfs handed the man the coins in silence, confused by their king's peasant behavior – for wasn't he supposed to be more ... royal? He even helped them shoulder the goods they had bought, whilst listening with half an ear to the man's chatter, who greedily counted his money.

"Na, ain't you doin' fine little king, here nobody will ever harm you, ha! Always loved the Mountains myself, always! Hehe, dwarf's home is in the stone, my father used to say, ne? Na, wonder why any dwarf wouldn't wanna be living in them mountains! Those poor devil dwarfs in Dunland ain't doing so fine, ne, with their caves and huts only!", the man laughed as he packed up his cart, oblivious to the dwarf king's shock upon hearing such news.

"Dunland? What- human, tell me! What do you know about the dwarfs of Dunland?", Thorin cried, grabbing a fistful of the man's coat to pull him down on eye level. The man was scared by the harsh tone and fiery look in the dwarf's eyes, stuttering as he answered, "I-I don't know much, m-mister dwarf k-k-king, not much! Never been t-there all my life, I swear! But - but them merchants say it's bad over there, bad bad bad, Wargs swarming the place - anybody whom can leave is gone away, it's no good!"

Thorin pushed the shaking man away from him, storming back to the main hall, where he threw his coat and crown carelessly on the ground, crying for his old friend, his voice ringing the mountain, "BALIN! Come! We need to ride to Dunland tonight! _Hurry! There is no time to lose_!"

The dark-haired dwarf found his hands trembling with fear, thinking of how he might be too late already; oh those damned Blue Mountains, why had he stayed here just for a moment longer, when he was needed somewhere else! How could he have stay!


	28. Second Moon of Spring, Part 2

_Bring on the aaaangst... Got a new computer, happily bouncing away :D Sorry for the inconvenience last time, hope this chapter his showing up properly :(_

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**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Second Moon of Spring 2872 ~  
**

* * *

"Uncle?"

Thorin turned around, startled to have the familiar voice of kin calling him in the forest. There, behind the tall rock, now gone, now fading - could it be? His voice cracked as he called the shadow, afraid it might answer, "Fíli? Is that you? But what are you doing here, in the middle of the night, all alone and -"

The dark-haired dwarf yelled with horror, as the little boy stepped into the light of the fire, lifting his battered head, his dead eyes staring at him accusingly, blood dripping from deep gashes all over his body as he whispered, _"It is your fault... why didn't you come back... you murderer … just like mother said ... you bring ruin to every one you love..._"

Crying, Thorin begged his nephew for forgiveness, offering his life instead, when suddenly Balin's face appeared in front of him.

"WAKE UP! THORIN! It is just a dream! Wake up!"

The dwarf gasped, opening his eyes to find his friend sit by his side, looking at him worried.

"Balin? Where... what..?"

"Just a dream, the same as usual, dear Thorin. You should consider my advice, and rest more often! Killing yourself won't get us to Dunland any faster... And your company is tired as well – do not forget they are your responsibility."

Thorin moaned as he sat up, finding Balin's word to hold much truth. His body would not suffer such treatment any longer, protesting at the slighest movement - and looking at the pale, sick faces of the ten dwarfs resting in their hurried camp around the fire, his companions were barely holding up either.

Sighing, the prince tried to explain himself, "Forgive me Balin... But with every moment that passes-"

The white-haired dwarf rolled his eyes at him, finishing his sentence with ease, "_more dwarfs are dying. We need to hurry, before it is too late!_ Say, but what if we _do_ arrive there, half-starved and dead on our feet? Oh, of how much use we would be! The Wargs shall be delighted breaking our weak bones, feasting on us 'heroes'!"

Thorin's eyes were blazing with anger as he got up, accusing his Balin harshly, "No more! Rest and quiet - easy for you to say! Do you even care for your people, I wonder? You seem to be so focused on resting - I guess you forgot all about your true kin in the years you were living in the Ered Luin!"

* * *

Leaving the camp, fuming with rage and only looking back to see nobody was following him, Thorin could see how much he had hurt his friend, who sat slumped in front of the fire, not one caustic remark coming from his lips; but stubbornly, the heir of the Erebor refused to take back his words, feeling his anger to be justified.

For seventeen days they had been riding, their breaks barely long enough to not ruin the ponies, riding and riding without a day of rest. Still, it would take at least one and a half week more until they reached Dunland, a time span as long as a life it seemed to Thorin. Every day, Balin and the Ered Luin dwarfs tried to soothe him, thinking of countless reasons to tell why his fears were baseless; and every day the irritated dwarf king dissented, refusing to be cheered up, brooding and worrying from dawn till dusk.

The dreams were worst – for every night, one of his people would come and tell him how he had failed them, their bodies maimed beyond recognition. Countless offerings Thorin had made to the gods, if only his family were safe upon his return; but his hopes were dwindling with every day, seeing the destruction the wild beasts had left along the Great Way, hunting the humans and their life stock as they moved westwards, their hunger as great as their madness.

The ground was still frozen, and Thorin pulled his coat closer as he walked through the forest, icy waterdrops hitting his face whenever he moved a branch out of his way. The winter had been cold, and refused to leave the valleys, prolonging the time of hunger even further. Things would get worse, before they got better, and weeks of famine still lay ahead.

Thorin could not recall ever knowing a hungry dwarf in his childhood; it was about time his people returned to the mountains, where they could live and prosper without fear. To think his people had endured twelve years in Dunland! The dark-haired dwarf shook his head, his anger slowly fading. Dear Fíli and Kíli, growing up without ever seeing a mountain, never knowing the wonder of wandering beneath the surface of the earth, feeling thousands of years surrounding and protecting them-

Hearing a noise much out of place in the middle of the night deep in a forest, Thorin stopped dead, quickly hiding behind a tree stump, waiting for the source of the clattering to present itself. He surely did not have to wait long, until an odd procession slowly passed his hideout, unaware of his presence in the dark.  
Wandering the woods came twenty dwarfs, five of them bound in shackles, rattling along, one bound to the other, bruised and crestfallen, guarded by the other dwarfs, who carried warhammers and battle axes, talking in low voices, carrying no lights.

The dark-haired dwarf pressed himself against the dead wood, his heart fluttering like a little bird held captive, holding his breath. These were probably prisoners of war, he tried to deceive himself, feeling the wet bark crumble under his touch, not daring to move, even when the strangers were out of sight.

Thorin told himself that there was nothing he could have done, all alone by himself, but could not get the voice in his head to quiet down. He knew those dwarfs were not prisoners of war, and he knew he should have tried to save them – even now, it was not too late. He could still run and wake up his companions, to go after them-  
But he selfishly considered the misery of his own kin to be greater than theirs, and whilst feeling guilty for leaving the strangers to their fate, he could not bear the thought of wasting any time on them, when his family was in need of him. The dark-haired dwarf felt his cheeks burn with shame, his justification sounding like a coward's, his conscience scolding him as he hurried through the woods, trying to forget what he had done.

Balin did not inquire Thorin as he returned to the camp, and without much ado accepted his apology as they quietly sat through their watch.  
As they lay down, Thorin did not dare to fall asleep, fearing five pale, murdered ghosts to be haunting his dreams. Laying restless on the hard stone, he wished for anybody to understand and approve of his choice; but not even Balin would forgive him if he told him of what he had done, Thorin was afraid.  
For he found the greater part of him would not ever forgive himself either for the decision he made this night.


	29. Third Moon of Spring

_Next is 30! Woha, that escalated quickly, any wishes dear readers :)?_

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**King on the mountain**

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**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

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**~ Third Moon of Spring 2872 ~  
**

* * *

Dís sighed, hearing her two sons voices come from the center of a brawl.

Almost every day for a month now, fights would start, between children as well as between adults. For dwarfs were not used to live together, packed tight in a tiny place and for a longer time – and anything longer than a visit from relatives for a weekend was _very_ long to a dwarf. As the Warg attacks became bolder during spring, everybody had agreed to stay together, considering it safer if all Dunland dwarfs choose to live in one cave, guarding each other - but even the biggest cave to be found in the soft soil of Dunland was still way too small to for almost two hundred dwarfs live together in peace.

Dís almost envied her husband, who was staying outside with the other dwarf men, who would guard the cave, or go hunting, some even trying to wander far off to go trading with the few humans remaining. The constant hunger amongst the dwarfs made the strained circumstances even worse, for they barely had enough to eat to last till full spring, and could no longer rely on the humans to come and do business with them. Everybody was hoarding their last supplies enviously, not wishing for anybody to know about their private stock, accusing each other of stealing food.

"You take that back!", Fíli cried, punching the other boy into the face, receiving a kick to the stomach in return. Meanwhile two elder boys were needed to hold back Kíli, who tried to free himself to help his brother, struggling against their hold as if they were orcs, biting their hands, cheering on Fíli.

The boys jumped as the princess scolded them, appearing without any notice behind them, intimidating in her anger.  
"Enough! You will stop fighting at once! Are you not ashamed, acting like spoiled children, whilst your fathers are risking their lives to protect you? And you young man- didn't I forbid you to start any fights!"

She pulled her eldest son up, who refused to look her in the eye, sniffling, his left eye swollen shut with his nose bleeding profusely from a well placed punch.  
Kíli quickly stuck his tongue out behind his mother's back at the dwarf boys leaving in a hurry, and tried to defend their actions, explaining indignantly, "But mother! He called uncle Thorin a coward! Fíli **had** to beat him up!"

Dís looked over where the accused boy stood, his hasty retreat stopped bis his angry mother, who gave him a good dressing down. Seeing his mother, she realized why the boy had looked familiar, crying out surprised, "How could this be? Is not his father Bifur, the toymaker! He is good friends with brother Thorín, who saved his life in the battle of Azanulbizar. How come his child is so disrespectful to his king's son?"

Fíli looked up desperately, angry tears rolling from his eyes, "Nobody is respecting Uncle Thorín anymore - they all say he will not come back, and has long forgotten us! Some are even talking about a finding a new king!"

Dís looked shocked upon hearing so, and at a loss for words hugged her sons, trying to soothe them, whilst considering what to do, fearing Fíli's words to hold much truth. She too had noticed some dwarf women avoiding her recently, but had written it off to the fact her sons had picked fights with theirs, usually winning.  
Dís regretted not having been more attentive to rumors spreading, trying to squash them before they became dangerous.  
Apparently both dwarfs of Ered Luin and Erebor considered rebelling against their absent king and prince, which worried her greatly. She needed to talk to her husband, and the few dwarfs she still knew to be loyal to Thorín soon, before it was too late; for whomever would consider deposing a king, surely would not stop at his kin and loved ones.

* * *

"Say, Father, will this fighting never end... It has been far too long since we were in the mines! How are we to make enough coal in time, to pay for seeds? We are only surviving now for we eat the seed needed for sowing – what shall when spring comes, if we can't afford buying any new?", Eflí asked his father, sharpening his axe for the fifth time this day, clearly distressed.

They had been sitting on their lookout since dawn, their eyes tired from watching the unchanging hills and meadows for Wargs to show up. Their attacks were becoming less and less frequent, most of the creatures moving on to the west, to find better prey which was not as resistant; but those who stayed back were either sick or had a litter, and were more dangerous in their hungry madness than their companions had been.

Gífli sighed, chewing on what once might have been an apple, now shriveled and bitter, sounding as hopeless as his son, "I don't know son, I sure do not know... The humans are all gone from this area, and I doubt they will ever come back... This place is lost, there's no changing that."

A single blackbird flew above them, his song cheerful and full of life; for a bird, life never was too bad in Dunland. But for a dwarf?  
Eflí was afraid of the inevitable to come, and wondered if Dís would finally leave with him and the children for the Blue Mountains, now that all hope was lost. If they waited much longer, they would starve on the way, and even now their journey would be next to hopeless, with the Wargs still swarming the land. But maybe they still had a chance if they took some strong warriors with them, and rode before the next moon? Eflí had to try talk to her tonight, as some dwarfs had become openly hostile to him and his father, avoiding sharing shifts with them and not warning them unless it was vital to the survial of all. Surely Dís had also felt that something was way off, the women sharing their husbands resentment, even the children picking up the mood.

The dwarfs of Dunland had not minded Thorin Oakenshield's wanderings before, thinking it best for their designated king to stay abroad, as to not unsettle their calm lives with his craving for winning back the Erebor; but now that danger loomed large, they resented him, for not being there to guide them and lead them to battle. Bitter and desperate, there was no use arguing with these dwarfs anymore, telling them to be patient and brave. Soon, they would conspire, and Eflí prayed his wife would see reason and leave with him and the children, before the dwarfs of Dunland would strike upon them – for time was running out for the kin of Thorin Oakenshield, who Eflí cursed once more for dooming them all.

* * *

"Cream slice."

"Deep-fried pastries."

"Apple Pie."

"Gingerbread!"

"Plum tart with whipped cre-"

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP BACK THERE!", Thorin yelled at the two dwarfs riding behind him, who tried to drown out their stomach rumbling by reciting all their favorite bakery. The king od Durin's people did not wish to admit he also was hungry, having forced his men to go without a break all day; Balin and Dori seemed to be most upset about this, talking about nothing but the food they would feast on when they returned to the Ered Luin, tut-tuting about Thorin behind his back in a ridiculous polite manner.

But he had no time to bother with them holding his reckless behaviour against him. Three, maybe four hours more, and he would finally be with his family again! Thorin found he was sick with anxiety, both scared and exhilarated at the same time, now that he was riding the hills of Dunland.

How was everybody? Where his nephews and sister alive and well? What if … He shook his head, not wishing to follow that thought, urging his pony to carry on for just a bit longer. There was no turning back now, no matter what cruelties might await him. He need to know about his family's fate, no matter what had happened to them whilst he was gone, no matter how much he wished he had never left them in the first place.


	30. First Moon of Summer

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ First Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

* * *

"See, just as I told you – this year, your birthday really was_ great_! I don't even know how late it is – but your party was splendid, I never saw anything like it! "

"Hm... it was … Better than yours?!", Kíli asked tiredly, trying to find a comfortable spot to sleep on, gifts littering his side of the bed, since he refused to part with them even in sleep.

Fíli agreed, more than just a little bit envious looking at his brother's haul, "Yes, even better than mine – say, I sure hope I will get as much gifts and cake when my birthday comes! Hey, you are still wearing your boots silly- hey? Kíli?"

Poking his little brother, he tried to get him to pull of his new boots; but Kíli was already fast asleep, exhausted after the best birthday party he had ever had. Fíli sighed as he pulled of his brother's boots, putting them where he would see them in the morning, before lying down next to him and pulling up the blanket to cover them, amused at seeing Kíli smile even in sleep, clutching a shimmering helmet of polished steel.

His brother's real birthday had once again been forgotten on their long ride to the Blue Mountains, and Kíli's disappointment had been so severe he refused to speak for two days, shunning even his uncle Thorin, before speaking up again and accusing his family of not caring for him at all and being cruel, pouting for days to come.

But all injustice was forgotten after today's big feast, the compensation making the wait worth and Fíli secretly hope his birthday would also be forgotten this year. A shield, and a new bow, and a helmet, and new boots, and sweets, and cakes, and so many guests there was no time to greet them all – of course the boys knew, Kíli's party was only a small part of the welcoming feast held for all the dwarfs returning to the Ered Luin, but still – it was the best party they had ever been to in all their lives!

Yawning, Fíli shoved a book and a doll onto the floor so he could rest more comfortably, hoping uncle Thorin was also enjoying the welcoming feast, holding a banquet in the main hall till morning to do something that Mister Balin had called 'bride looking' with a funny wink.

* * *

Balin ran through he halls fuming, close to throwing a tantrum whilst looking for his stubborn king, yelling on top of his lungs, "THORIN! COME OUT! I KNOW YOU ARE HIDING ABOUT HERE! WILL YOU COME OUT PLEASE BEFORE I-!"

Thorin, just as angry as his friend, yelled back at him, defining his position as he clarified, "NO! I WILL** NOT** COME OUT AGAIN UNTIL YOU SEND THOSE HORRIBLE WOMAN AWAY! HOW DARE YOU SETTING ME UP!"

Balin listen close and then took the stairs leading up to the room where he thought his black-haired friend was hiding, not surprised upon finding him crouched behind a desk, half of his body plain visible.

"Thorin, you always were hopeless at playing hide and seek... I should have guessed I'd find you here in your own room, hm? Now, please, come, she is not as-"

Balin barely managed to duck, before a quill sharpener whizzed past him, vibrating softly as it stuck to the door frame.  
Backing off slowly, the white-bearded dwarf had to admit his king was quite a sight to see when standing tall in his insensate fury, his eyes blazing, threatening his old friend with an axe meant for decoration only - but could cause severe bleeding though, if used with proper force.  
Balin did not doubt a second Thorin was more than willing to use any amount of force to not have to go back to the banquet as he ranted, "I will not see that – this _woman_ ever again! Send her away, and if it means starting a fight with her family –** I DO NOT CARE**!"

Balin nodded carefully, not wishing to anger Thorin any further, trying to choose his words as carefully, "Surely, you are right – we were wrong, and should have considered your wish to stay unmarried for all your live, ah, I mean until you win back the-"

Dori had somehow managed to follow Balin, gasping for breath as burst out upon barging into the room, "When will your highness come to see her highness, the duchess of-"

Balin threw himself backwards, pulling the younger dwarf down with him to avoid the golden axe headed straight for them. Together, they half ran, half fell down the stairs, inkhorns and books hurled after them them, before the door to Thorin's chambers was eventually slammed shut and locked from inside, muffling the implicit threats addressed at them.

"_**ifIseeyouoncemoreatmydoorIsh allkillyouyoutraitorsandshal lskinyoualiveandfeedyoutoorc sandthenIshallkillyouagainan dripyourheadOFF!**_"

"King Thorin seems to be rather displeased.", Dori stated, brushing cow webs and dust from his jacket, looking unhappy at the torn hem. Balin wiped ink from his face and raised a questioning eyebrow at the courtier, irritated at the youngster's understatement.

"I would say our 'highness' is a bit highly strung as far as the topic of marriage is concerned – not to say_ temperamental_. Now, what shall we tell our dear duchess of the Blue Mountains, noble woman in her own right? That his highness considers her an old hag, and does not wish to see her unhandsome face every again in his halls? Might sound a bit rash I think, hm_ hm hm_..."

Looking at the locked oaken door, five inch thick, he knew neither arguing nor breaking in would be an option; as long as their king did not wish to be reasonable, they had no choice but trying to avert a political disaster all by themselves and lie the best they could.

"Well, we could tell her his highness suddenly fell sick - would you mind telling her so, but wrapped up nicely, my dear Dori? And tell her she possesses … a wonderful _charm_. My my, I've never seen him run like_ that_ ever before!"

Wandering back to the banquet, having send Dori ahead to put his head on the block instead of him, Balin had to admit that Thorin probably had a right to be a bit indignant about his court's choice of brides. Well, the duchess was surely no radiant beauty, and was already hundred-and-thirty years old, and not very intelligent, sweet minded or gifted in the fine arts – but well, she was of a king's standing, and seemed genuinely interested in marrying Thorin, who also was hundred-and-twenty-six years old now and no youngster anymore. It was about high time he got married and had a child – and marrying a noble woman of the Ered Luin would further promote the friendship between the two dwarf people who now were living together in the Blue Mountains.

But it seemed Thorin had set his mind to only marry once he had reclaimed the Erebor, and still was obsessed with his old home, despite having won a new one. The first moon of summer had been full when the dwarfs from Dunland finally arrived in the Ered Luin, sick from their long journey, but all rejoicing at the sight of the mountains; now, a pale crescent hung in the sky, and warm winds carrying the smell of summer into caves finally filled with laughter again.

Two months they had been riding and wandering, often fighting for their lives when wild beasts or highway men attacked, often going hungry for days, only hope keeping them going in the end.

Thorin had sent Nori and Dori ahead, to bring the news of their coming to the Ered Luin dwarfs, some of them even choosing to ride out to meet old friends and family, too impatient to wait any longer. Watching them reunite tearfully after twelve years, Balin wondered why no dwarf in the Blue Mountains had everconsidered visiting Dunland or vice-versa, if they had longed to see their kin so much; but the hearts of dwarfs were hard to penetrate, and not only for the armor they wore.

Arriving in Dunland on the third moon of spring had been a grave disillusion for the company – not only was there almost no food for hungry guests, but everybody seemed to be tense upon Thorin's return - everybody except his two nephews, who could not contain their joy upon meeting again.

Seeing Fíli and Kíli for the first time, Balin had taken them in his heart immediately, finding them to be fine lads who adored their uncle so much it came close to idolization, and also took an instant liking in him – for he was not only the oldest friend of their uncle, but an apparently well-known warrior too, causing them to look at him with constant wonder in their eyes.

Seeing his friend reunite with his family, holding his beloved ones close, the white-haired dwarf felt an old pain in his heart, the void of not having a family of his own opening wide. The only kin of his still alive was his brother Dwalin, whom he had not seen since their fateful ride with Thrain; it saddened Balin to realize he did not even know if his brother was still alive and well, or had died long ago without a kind soul to mourn him. He had planned to take a leave once they had returned to the Blue Mountains and everybody had settled down, to take a leave to search for his brother; but when the court informed him about their plans to see their king married by the end of the year, asking for his cooperation, Balin had no choice but to stay, for Thorin's sake - and for the sake of the wife his friend would eventually have to settle with if it could not be helped.


	31. First Moon of Summer, Part 2

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ First Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

* * *

"Hm! These pastries are _delicious_!", Balin cried out, licking his fingers, eying the door carefully in case it would slip open. But the door handle did not move, nor was the lock turned; apparently Thorin was not famished enough to surrender yet.

It had been three days since his friend had locked himself, after running away from the banquet and the duchess, and if not for their occasional arguments, Balin would have started to worry for the health of his king – but he did sound quite well, yelling at his friend now and then, and insulting him with words Balin found he had to look up, surprised at Thorin's outburst of eloquence when it came to cursing.

"I think I will have_ another_ one – they are just _too good_ to let go to waste. I'm sure you don't mind me having your share? Your sister made them herself – _hm_! I never had better pastries in all my life!"

Thorin did not answer him, probably sitting on his bed, miserable and hungry, but too stubborn to yield, and too afraid to be forced to pay his respects to another lady of high standing if he gave in. The duchess had accepted their humble apologies for the king's absence, and had merely insisted on inviting the king to a dinner once he was well enough again; Balin was afraid Thorin would have another fit, if he told him he could not possibly turn her invitation down, thus having to see her again.

"Well, Dís has grown into quite a fine woman, hasn't she? Raising her kids in Dunland must have been hard, buy they grew up to be good boys, smart and crafty - and they've got_ manners_, unlike somebody else."

"_What are you implying_?", a muffled voice came from beyond the door, sounding frankly annoyed.

Balin grinned smugly, finishing the last pastry, answering Thorin in his best treacly voice, "Oh, I am not_ implying_ anything your highness, King of Durin's people, not one _single_ thing. And after all - who would expect a _grown-up dwarf_ to make small talk with his_ guest_, or ask them for a _dance_? Of course not! Those are not things a polite dwarf would have to do, I am being silly... Just to think, somebody excepting a grown-up dwarf to see to his duties, and stop hiding in his room like a-"

"Like a _what_?"

Thorin glowered through the door crack, dark circles aroung his eyes, his hair unkempt and wild.

Balin did not get up, but just looked up at his friend, sitting comfortabely on his cushion of red velvet, blocking in the door, not even trying to hide his amusement. He clearly enjoying his victory as he gloated, "Like a _Thorin Oakenshield_, who has his sister take over the royal duties, whilst he absconds from dwarf women like orcs from sunlight."

The royal dwarf looked about to close the door again for a moment, anger blazing in his eyes; but then resigned and let his friend in, not bothering to close the door behind Balin, who followed him inside, carrying an almost empty basket with food, estimating his king's state with one look.

"My, my, you look like you haven't sleep in days – why, is it really bothering you this much?"

Thorin slumped down on a chair, staring at his hands and the many rings he wore, the jewels glittering in the candle light, invaluable in their beauty.

"Balin, I … I just don't know... I-"

"Maybe you just don't like women? It has happened before, you know-", Balin suggested, trying to sound nonchalant. Thorin shook his head vehemently, surprised his friend would not know him well enough, to see this was not the nature of his problem.

"No, it's not that I do not_ like_ women, and you know that – it's just – Say, Balin, you are not married either my friend – why is nobody putting up a fuss over you?"

The other dwarf shrugged, putting the cookie he had absently picked from the basket back, trying to explain the difference between a noble and a royal dwarf to his king.

"Well, first, why should they? If my line were to end with me, there would be no harm – nobody would start a war over my heritage, for I have no throne they might succeed to. Second, nobody is hoping I might settled down and lead a peaceful life once I've got a wife. I am of no importance to my people – unlike you, my dear king. And last but not least, your people think a queen would do you much good and make you happy."

Thorin sighed, rubbing his temples, tired from more than just lack of sleep.

"... How would a wife I do not love make me happy?"

Balin pulled up a chair and sat down next to his friend, squeezing his shoulder in a reassuring way.

"Right you are, right you are... Though love can also grow after the marriage they say. But well, is there _any_ woman you would like to marry then?"

Looking at his old friend grief-stricken, Thorin shook his head, admitting, "No, there isn't."

Frowning, the white-haired dwarf made an indecent gesture, not quite believing his friend's words, "Not one? But, say - isn't there some lady you, erh,_ like_? I mean, as in-"

"Balin, I am no fool, I_ do_ know what you are implying.", Thorin interrupted him, rolling his eyes at his flirtatious friend's innuendos. No, Balin was not shy at all with women, and had it not been for his scorned love, would probably long have found himself a wife; but as for him, it was not as easy to find love it seemed. Or rather, the love he wanted to marry once he had won back the Erebor. But no woman had caught his eye and set his heart on fire - it was as if there just was nobody in the world whom he could fall in love with.

"And how could I ever marry a woman I do not love?", Thorin cried out in frustration, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Balin sighed, as he rubbed his friend's back, looking at the carelessly discarded crown of Durin's people, lying forgotten on the huge wooden desk, softly talking to himself, wondering, "I see, I see ... But where are we supposed to find a woman _you_ could love my friend? Just where?"

* * *

"STOP! Who is wandering the night! Show yourself!"

The guards had not been on their assigned spots, having listened to the music coming from the man hall, and now tried to make up for their carelessness by overreacting, threatening the lonely rider knocking at the gates, reading their axes.

It was a dwarf apparently, riding on a sturdy pony who nonetheless had a hard time carrying its owner, who was enormously round. Startled at their hostile behavior, the rider seemed to consider turning round, when one of the older guards recognized him, laughing out relieved, "Stand at ease! This is no enemy – it is Bombur, the corpulent! Why, what are you doing here my friend, riding all by yourself through the darkness, giving us the frights?"

Clumsily the dwarf got off his pony and lead it through the gate into the halls of the Ered Luin, surprised to see so many foreign dwarfs amongst the guards, standing shy in front of them for a while, before finally blurting out, "Iamheretoinquireformy brother, Bofur. Has he been here recently? Or has anybody had word of him? I am terribly worried for him! He did not return from his ride to Bree three months ago!"

The guards exhanged knowing looks, nodding to each other as their leader urged Bombur to follow him.

"You better come with me, and tell the council about this! We can't have this happening to us again!"

Bombur easily kept up, surprisingly agile on his feet for a dwarf of his girth, worried by the sombre tone of the guard, begging him to tell him what was going on, "What happening again? Do you know where my brother is? Please tell me!"

But it was in vain, has he did not received no answer from the other dwarf; but he got the feeling that whatever had happened to his brother, might soon be affecting all dwarfs in the Ered Luin.


	32. First Moon of Summer 2872, Part 3

_A rather verbose chapter, to explain what is going on; but something wicked the next chapters come - and a lot more Fíli & Kíli ;)_

* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ First Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

* * *

"Are you happy, dear sister?"

Dís looked up from her embroidery, smiling at her brother who had sneaked into her room, probably having fled from another banquet held in his honor. As Balin had told her, Thorin was thinking about banning banquets for the next few months, afraid he would soon be as enormous as his cousin Bombur, if he was forced to continue overeating every day to not displease his hosts.

"I am happy my dear, more happy than I have been for a long time. I sure hope you are too, my beloved Thorin?"

The dwarf tried to smile, but the sorrow would not leave his face, a deep sadness darkening his eyes.

"Surely I am happy sister, for everybody I love is here, save and sound, and no harm shall ever befall my family again. How could I not be happy?"

Dís cut a thread and sewed it up, before picking a new color, pausing to scrutinize her brother.

"For a happy dwarf you look quite unhappy to me, brother of mine – is something bothering you?"

It was not a question, but a statement, and seeing how his sister was probably the only person who might understand his grief, Thorin mustered all his courage and confessed to her the misdeed which had been festering in his mind for two months now.

"Sister, I am afraid I have done wrong, and do not know how to undo my mistake... When I rode to Dunland with Balin and the others, one night we had a camp close to the ruins of Tharbad. I was wandering the woods by myself, when I saw a group of dwarfs passing by – at first they looked like warriors and prisoners of war... But then I realized they were -"

Thorin's voice failed him, as the shamefulness of his decision returned to him, and he tried to avoid his sister's bright, honest eyes as he justified himself, sounding pathetic to his own ears, "There was no time to lose! I thought you and Fíli and Kíli were in grave danger – we needed to hurry and- I... Oh sister, what have I done? But – I had no choice!"

The dwarf princess had not told her brother much about what had happened the very days before he had arrived in Dunland, for she did not wish to confirm his worst fears, and awaken a deep distrust in his people, telling him about their plans of deposing him; therefore, she could not silence his conscience by speaking truth, no matter how much she wished to ease his pain.

"You did what you thought was best, dear brother, so do not grieve – and see how you were in time, and did lead us all away from Dunland and back to our home, where we can live lives of peace and prosperity. Do not blame yourself for things past."

They sat in silence, Dís finishing her embroidery, whilst Thorin looked wistfully at the golden harp hanging at the wall, wondering when he last played any music; but his heart was too troubled to bring forth anything but cords of mournfulness.

Laying her embroidery aside, Dís started sorting needles and threads into her sewing basket, wondering when Thorin would tell her about the choice she knew he had already made, continuing their talk by asking him about their old friend, "Brother, Balin seems to most downhearted nowadays - do you know what has occured to him? I never seen him in such low spirits in all my life."

Thorin told her about his friend's pain, feeling guilty as if he was the cause for it, "It is his brother he is worried about, Dwalin – you sure do remember him? He was one of the tallest dwarfs to ever be born in the Erebor, standing nearly five feet tall. I always wondered how Balin happened to be so short, with his younger brother being such a giant of a dwarf."

Dís and Thorin shared a smile, remembering the two sons of Fundin who were renown for their constant arguments, being as different as night and day in all aspects but their mutual love and care for each other.

"I always felt sorry for Balin and Dwalin not chosing living with us to Dunland... We could have used their courage and bravery many times.", Dís remarked, wondering if those two could have made her brother stay in Dunland and cease his wanderings, convincing him of the worth of a life anywhere else but in the Erebor.

Thorin agreed, the memory of Dwalin's might war hammer still vivid in his mind, "Indeed, they would have made a difference many a times! I am glad to have at least Balin by my side, as annoying as he might be when he thinks he's right and I am not. And I surely do not like the idea of having him ride out to look for his brother all by himself, not when so many dwarfs have been taken on their wanderings recently."

For his cousin Bombur had not been the first one to come knocking at the gates of Thorin's halls, looking for a lost relative. Now that the kingdom of Durin's people was being rebuilt, many dwarfs came to the Ered Luin, some to inquire about their loved ones, others hoping to find protection from the terror which had taken their friends and families in the night. Nobody had ever seen who or what claimed the dwarf men, first only taking wanders, now raiding towns even, leaving behind only the very old men and the very young boys. Some thought it was a monster, others blamed orcs, some even suspicious of elves robbing their men, only Thorin knowing the true nature of the kidnappers.

"I wish I were free to go with Balin, so I could repay his help in winning back the Ered Luin from the dragon, and wash myself clean off the sin I have committed, by not helping my brethren when they were being enslaved... But the court and council will not let me go, afraid I may not return – such nonsense! Do they think I would abandon my people, my family at a passing whim?", the dark-haired dwarf cried out, angered by the assumption he would take after his father, abandoning his responsibilities in a craze.

Dís, always conciliative, tried to explain the fears of the Ered Luin and Erebor dwarfs to her brother, "I think they are more afraid you will find death on your journey, and they will be left without a king, dear Thorin. They need a strong leader to see them through this time of change. And you have no son who will claim your throne-"

Thorin huffed, walking round the room restless, interrupting his sister, "I do not understand! Why they are so worried about who will succeed me? For do I not have two most wonderful nephews, who would make splendid heirs to the throne of Durin's people!"

To his utter surprise, his sister did not seem pleased at the thought of her sons becoming kings; her face was grey as stone, no joy in her voice as she remarked, "That would be a hard lot for my children... I hope it will not ever come to this."

"But sister-"

"No. Mahal may hear my prayers, my sons shall not ever have to carry this burden – I do not mind to take your place, but leave Fíli and Kíli out of this.", the dwarf woman decided, settling their argument before it had even started. "You go ride with Balin, and bring back his brother and all dwarfs taken, to redeem yourself. We will arrange matters, and I will be your substitute once more. Let us pray as long as there is no danger present, they will not mind your leaving if you decide who shall take your place, and for them to see how it will be of little use if you were to stay and grieve yourself to death on the throne."

Thorin looked baffled at his resolute little sister, who actually commanded him to leave; but then he smiled, seeing how Dís would have little trouble dealing with the council and the court, her mind set firmly on the task that lay ahead of her.

"Thank you dear sister – thank you! I promise, I will return soon, and you shall have word of me as often as I managed to write!"

Dís sounded amused, scolding her brother in a friendly way, "You mean, our Balin will write the letters and claim they stem from you, as he always does, my forgetful elder brother?"

Hugging his sister Thorin grinned, admitting being caught, "Right you are, my bright diamond of a sister! And thank you, thank you for easing my weary heart – I feel I even may return to that darn banquet again, before Dori faints from anxiety and Balin has a fit of anger. Farewell dear sister, until we see each other again in the morning! I shall repay your kindness thousandfold!"

Dís went to close the door after her brother left, watching him walk down the hall light-footed, a huge burden lifted from his shoulders. She wondered if Thorin would ever live peaceful life as a king, not yearning for the next adventure to come, fleeing from papers and talks; but seeing him turn round once more on his way, smiling happily as he bide her goodnight, she felt she could not condemn him for his restlessness, even envying him a bit for reclaiming his freedom once more.


	33. First Moon of Summer 2872, part 4

_posting more irregular, but bigger - next chap thursday :)_

* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ First Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

* * *

The pony nickered nervously as the two boys approached it from different angles and tried backing away further into the corner. This time it was the smaller one holding the bridle, and the taller one carrying the saddle, both bruised but still resolute to caught their father's pony. The gentle beast had known the children since they had been born, and therefore did not react as forcefully towards their tries as it would have to a stranger's – but having a saddle thrown at its head, whilst a dwarf clung to its front leg had been simply too much to bear even for the most willing pony.

"_Shhh! Not so fast Kíli! You will scare it!_", Fíli whispered, making clucking noises to soothe the pony, which only made the animal even more nervous.

"You 'don't scare it' yourself!_ I_ did not throw the saddle at its head the first time!", Kíli grumbled, trying not to step onto the bride or horse dung. His hair was dirty, matted with straw and other things about which he did not wish to think about, looking no longer like a king's nephew but like the lowest groom in the whole kingdom, his new clothes ruined already.

"_Come here, come here, good boy, gooooood boy_, come heeeeer- Nononono, oh please stop! **Kíli! Get away there**!"

Kíli yelled and jumped aside as the pony burst forward, by a hair's breath avoiding it's hoof.

Watching the animal soon calm itself once it had put some distance between itself and the boys, Fíli would have sworn the other ponies were laughing at them, snorting amused in their boxes whilst munching their oats.

"I knew this would not work... My plan was a lot better!", Kíli muttered, throwing the bridle onto the ground and kicking the straw, crossing his arms sulky.

Fíli carried the heavy saddle over to rack, frustrated at their failure and annoyed by his little brother's lack of respect for his ideas. It had been his plan to leave tonight, and to wait for the company somewhere on the road; his hope was they would let them ride with them, seeing how they had come this far and not wishing to turn back again. He admitted the plan did have its flaws – but it still was good, and better than Kíli's all the more!

"Your?_ plan_ little brother? Pah! What sort of_ plan_ was that – setting all the ponies free so that uncle Thorin would not be able to ride! That's not a plan, that's _stupid_! Like the ponies would ever run off by themselves! Nothing but a grounding would have come by that!"

"Bah! Your plan is stupid too! And you are stupid too!", the little boy cried out offended, swinging a punch at his brother, and when missing by a mile lost his balance as he slipped on the straw and landed on his behind quite painfully.

Fíli laughed at Kíli's misfortune, teasing him mercilessly as he doubled over with laughter in front of him, "Oh my, _now_ I'm scared! Look how you_ smart_ you are, haha! How great you looked, a might warrior of Durin, slipping on manure and not hitting what is right in front of you! HAHAHA!"

As he saw how his little brother looked about to cry, Fíli toned down at bit, even offering Kíli his hand to help him up; but the brown-haired boy stubbornly rejected it, getting to his feet by himself, his bottom lip trembling as he walked past his brother and towards the pony still watching them wearily, snorting and prancing, the dwarf boy's fists clenched.

Fíli called after him, thinking his brother was about to home and cry, "Hey, I didn't meaning it Kíli – come, don't be such a mule, you know I was kidding! Hey- wait!** What** **do you think you're doing**! **_Stop that Kíli that's dangerous_**!"

Staring the pony dead in the eye, the little dwarf was headed straight for the animal, determined to mount it even without a saddle, when he heard enthusiastic clapping and a familiar voice praising him and his brother cheerfully from an empty box.

"My, that was great – you two are really just like your uncle, stubborn to the bone and brave to the extent of stupidity! But may I give you a hint on how to handle a pony, young warriors? First, you do not startle the poor creature in the middle of the night. Second, you do not try to saddle a horse without knowing what you do - all the more if you don't know the saddle horn goes to the front. And last - you do not need to bother saddling a pony, if you are too small to reach the stirrups yet and can't even hold the reigns. **But, **what a brilliant effort you two made! Truly _amazing_!"

Fíli and Kíli looked at the floor with faces scarlet, having been caught red-handed by Balin, who had watched the whole ordeal, touched and amused by the children's plan to set forth to fool their way into company - how old where they again? Eight and twelve? Balin was almost proud of them being disobedient.

He had been surprised by Thorin's decision to set out with him to look for his brother, and even more by the council granting the king's wish; maybe though Balin mused, both parties were glad if the topic of marriage would rest for a while, hoping the other would see reason in time.  
After hearing Bombur's story of how his brother was lost, last heard of in the Eriador where he went to sell his goods, the last doubts had been gone about this being more than just a local problem. From the west to the south, dwarfs were being abucted - but only the men, and as it seemed, they were being taking from the north first, than from the east, and now even the dwarfs living in sight of the Ered Luin were being taken.

How many dwarf men had been lost already? Balin knew of at least fifty dwarf men who went missing in the past few months – a frighting high number, thinking how little of Durin's folk was left in middle earth. They all went missing whilst on their own – riding on lonely roads, standing guarding, living by themselves – and Balin was afraid the same fate had befallen his brother, who else surely would have returned to the Ered Luin upon hearing the news of Thorin becoming king.

Looking at the two boys in front of him, stubborn and saddened, he wondered though if he should not have forbidden his friend and king to join him on his journey; it seemed such a cruel thing to have nephews and uncle part again so soon.

"Now, what shall I do with the two of you – I can't just let you off easily, can I?"

Fíli and Kíli nodded, their cheeks burning with shame, mumbling under their breath, "No, Mister Balin, your surely can not. We are sorry for causing you inconveniences."

Rubbing his hands and grinning broadly, the white-haired dwarf thought a bit, and then dramatically declared his idea of punishment, "I will now have you wash yourself and then see you put to bed, and in the morning you two will get up early and say goodbye to your uncle, and promise me on your honor as dwarfs to not do anything reckless like running off after him – understood, lads?"

The boys looked at the elder dwarf puzzled, but then reluctantly agreed, seeing how this was indeed a punishment fit the crime, having to say an oath they could never break. Fíli spoke for both of them, sounding earnest, "We promise we will not do that, on our honor as dwarfs, Mister Balin. But _only_ if you promise us to bring uncle Thorin back, and look after him and fight by his side and protect him at all times! Swear you will!"

Balin raised an eyebrow at the boy blackmailing him, seeing potential in the child, both annoyed and proud by its cleverness, "I promise I will protected Thorin with my life and return him to you, on my honor as the son of Fundin who's never broke an oath, and neither shall I. And now, lets see you two mudlarks cleaned up and back to your rooms, before the sun rises!"

Looking at each other, the brothers agreed, and accepted Balin's oath as valid, following him back to the royal chambers and hoping their mother would not notice neither their absence nor their arrival, fearing a solid spanking.

The pony watch the group leave and shook its head, sending its brown mane flying. If there ever was an answer to why those curious dwarfs were doing the silly things they did do!

* * *

"A song about the Erebor, is it not?"

Thorin turned around startled, not having noticed the other dwarf approach, oblivious to his surroundings as his eyes and minds were resting on the far north-east distance. The dark-haired dwarf had been humming a long forgotten song, and was surprised at his brother-in-law knowing about the lyrics.

"Yes, it is Eflí... A song about a wanderer long for home- What do you want from me?", he had not meant to sound harsh, but Thorin was embarrassed at being caught singing to himself, all the more by a dwarf who mercilessly criticized everything about him and his people.

"I just came up here to say good-bye to you – if you will have me.", the gray-haired dwarf scoffed, coming up to the balustrade, admiring the view from the highest platform ever built by dwarfs on a mountain.

"The Blue Mountains are so beautiful from up here. This hight makes one forget all sadness down in the deep, don't you agree Thorin?"

"No. Some sadness just can't be forgotten."

Being used to only defend himself or endure the angry silence when talking to Eflí, Thorin found himself at a loss for better words, now the other was being friendly. What was he up to? In the fourteen years they had known each other, no friendly word they had shared – so why was he up here now, to see him off?

Eflí looked the other dwarf in the eye for the first time in many years; there was no more spite in his eyes as they met Thorin Oakenshield's.

"If one does not wish to forget sadness, this hold much truth. But there are many things in this world which can make a dwarf forget sorrow – a friend, a wife, children, one day even grandchildren-"

Thorin laughed heartily, thinking he realized what the other was up to, "No, please, not you too Eflí! Have you and Dís and Balin joined forces now, to see me wed?"

Eflí had not heard Thorin laugh often as he had choosen to avoid him for many years whenever he could; it was not an unpleasant sound, and quite infectious.

"No, I am not here to give you advice of the heart, surely not! Though, I do admit thinking that you could find a home here too - if you were not all by yourself. But such is easy to say, if one has been returned to his home ... So please do forgive my inconsiderate words."

Thorin tried to find the right words at his brother-in-law's enormous concession, touched by his words, feeling he was apologizing for only what had just been said a moment a go, "...There is … nothing to forgive... _Brother_."

Both stared straight ahead, blinking, neither wishing to speak up or look at the other, afraid to murder what was just coming to life with a careless word. Thorin looked towards the east where the sky was slowly brightening, and found a most uncanny feeling burn in his heart.

When he was riding through the gates, he knew he would not be looking back, since seeing what he left behind might ass well kill him.

He found he was already homesick for the Ered Luin, before the journey had even begun.


	34. Second Moon of Summer 2872

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Second Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

* * *

"Are you not ashamed of yourselves?!", the youngster cried out in frustration, pressing the soaked book against his chest protectively as to keep it from any more harm from the two horrible boys sitting across the desk. Fíli and Kíli looked at each other and merely shrugged, wondering why Ori was making such a fuss over a heap of paper, their own books lying upside down in front of them, torn and dirty.

"Are we ashamed of ourselves Kíli?", Fíli asked his younger brother, who had grabbed his quill and tried to draw a beard on a elf depicted in his primer.

Not looking up from his most recent masterpiece, the younger boy smirked, joining his brother in belittling their tutor.

"Well, I am not – are you? Hm, something is missing about this, but I don't know what?"

Fíli admire his brother's art, suggesting, "Hm, how about we ask Mister Ori to write_ 'stupid elf'_ next to it?"

The red-haired dwarf almost dropped his book, shocked by his pupils careless words, whining,"You – you – you ignorants! One does not simply write things onto a book's pages!"

Kíli frowned at him, carelessly dropping ink all over the papers as he wildly gestured with his quill, sounding indignant, "But you told us we should practice writing _all the time_! How are we supposed to learn how to write, if we are not allowed to write when we wish to?"

Stammering, Ori tried to explain the vast difference between a book and paper to the nephews of his king, horrified at their lack of understanding, "Oh, you – of course your need to write, but – not in a book! It's not right! A book is not for-"

"But you write into a book all the time!", Fíli interrupted his teacher, annoyed by constantly being scolded by a dwarf barely nine years his senior, who was not even a proper warrior, and enjoying any chance presenting itself to mock the redhead.

Ori blushed deeply, for a moment afraid the children might actually have read his secret diary; but his fear was baseless, for the brothers would not recognize a letter if it hit them in the face, let alone read a whole sentence written in finest Khuzdul. Since he was too weak and too young to join his king on the journey to the north, Ori had offered his humble services as a teacher to Thorin's family, wishing to repay his kindness and bravery of saving him and his people from the dragon, admiring Thorin Oakenshield deeply. But had he known of the insoluble problem laying ahead of him, he probably would not have been willing to ever teach Fíli and Kíli, who seemed to be hooked on learning anything - as long as did not include writing, reading or mathematics.

"That's - that's something different! My book his blank and needs to be filled with words and-"

"But wasn't every book blank once? And who gets to decide if it's finished- look, there are plenty of empty spots still! We could write on them too!"

Kíli giggled, seeing how his brother pretended to not understand the difference between book and paper, just to irk their teacher; snapping his fingers, the little boy quipped, proud of his scurviness, "If you mind us writing on finished books so much - why don't you let us write in your blank book then, Mister Ori?"

Cornered by the defiant boys and seeing no other way, the red-haired dwarf uttered his most cruel, and so far only working threat, to get the boys to behave and respect him – by mentioning the one person Fíli and Kíli could not possibly disregard.

"Either you learn to read, or king Thorin will be _very _disappointed on his returns – see, it has been one month already, and you do not even know how to write your own name yet! You need to be more studious! "

"But-", the boys wanted to protest, but Ori would not let them, seeing how he had regain the upper hand by playing the guilt card once more.

"Now, do you want to offend your king with your unlearnedness?! Such a fire king he is- you are a disgrace to him, unless you learn everything there is to know! And it is a dwarf's most sacred duty to know how to write and read!"

Staring at his teacher in the eye until he he flinched, Fíli decided Ori had made the latter one up; but he knew the elder boy was right, for uncle Thorin truly would not be happy to see how little they had learned once he came back to the Ered Luin. Sighing, Fíli and Kíli picked up their books, stammering and stuttering their way through the maze of inks, trying to make sense of dots and lines, so they might soon be able to read their uncle's letters by themselves.

* * *

"Another one already?", Eflí wondered, watching his wife break the seal.

"It seems so my dear - it seems like they have a lot of spare time on their hands.", the princess of Durin`s folk guessed, reading the newest letter out loud.

_Dearest Dís,_

_I hope you, your husband and my dear nephews are doing well (in case you are wondering, it is not Balin writing this letter to you!) (like Thorin told me to write to you). We have traveled without any occurrences so far, and I hope our luck will be with us a bit longer. So far, the worst danger we are facing is Bombur breaking his poor pony's neck, getting fatter every day as we ride north. He says he's barely been eating since his brother disappeared, all sick with worry; should this hold truth, I am afraid of paying for his expenses once we have found Bofur – not that he is an inexpensive company as for now though!_

_Ever since we set forth, we have not met another dwarf on the road – it is an most unsettling sight, only humans crossing our path, not a dwarf in sight; in the old days, one would constantly run into friends on the road, merchants traveling from west to east. But alas, that was when the Erebor still was our home – so many years have passed!_

_According the stories of the dwarfs seeking for their friends and family, we have decided to head for the Misty Mountains, gathering information and trying to lure our enemy out to show himself. Thorin, erh, I am not fond of the idea of our mission being mostly about talking to humans and searching for clues – he sorry I mean I am long to confront and fight whoever is taking the dwarf men from middle earth. But we will see what lies ahead of us dear sister!_

_Hopefully, this letter will find you soon and well, so until we meet again, always thinking of you,_

_with all my love,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

_P.s.: Tell Rés I erh tell Rés that Balin is - - tell her he is thinking about her parting words still.  
_

_Yours, Balin_

_P.p.s.: And tell Fíli and Kíli to keep away from the pony!_


	35. Third Moon of Summer 2872

_next update is tuesday, Kíli, Fíli and the mysterys of ...? :)!  
_

* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Third Moon of Summer 2872 ~  
**

"Oh my, such hot weather we are having today – does his majesty wish for a parasol?", Dori asked softly as to not disturb his king's rest.

Thorin looked up annoyed, shading his eyes, tired of the courtier constantly offering him his services. Had he not a moment ago shooed him away after he tried to fan him? "Dori … Why don't you go and offer your services to Balin or somebody else once in a while? If I should be in need of your aid, I will _call_ for you. And now, please, leave me alone."

Hurt by the coarse rejection, Dori started to protest, "But, your majesty-"

_ " I SAID LEAVE_!", The dark-haired dwarf growled at his servant, satisfied to see Dori make a hasty retreat down the hill, hopefully to not return any time soon.

Thorin had chosen to rest in the shadows of an lonely oak on top of a hill, while the rest of his company were sitting at the brookside, cooling their feet and trying to catch fish for dinner. They had made good progress, and soon would have to cross the plains of Angmar; therefore they had all agreed to rest for a few days, before entering the dark lands of the former witch-king. They would try to use the old passage leading to the Mountain Gundabad to cross the Hithaeglir, and once they had passed the Misty Mountains safely, they would head for the Ered Mithrin, looking for further traces of the kidnapped dwarfs. Balin was sure the dwarfs had been taken to the Ered Mithrin, having spent many days and nights talking to humans in taverns, using more gold on beer than was needed to feed Bombur for a month. But hearing the stories the men told to his friend when they were drunk, Thorin did not consider his friend's expense wasteful.

_Wolves_ they claimed, wolves had come and taken the dwarfs traveling the roads – strange, fur-clad wolves, carrying swords and shields of iron and steel, their beards long and unkempt, their eyes wild and of an impossible blue. Shepherds, merchants and hunters had seen them in the night, traveling in packs through the woods, dead quiet and frightening, scaring men and animal alike. The further north the company had ridden, the less willing villagers were to have them stay overnight in their towns after they inquired for other dwarfs, some men even refusing to sell them goods, sending them away with fearf in their eyes. Apparently, there were many men who had seen the 'wolves' - but barely one in hundred was willing to remember unless drunk, most men being afraid to speak, feeling that many who had been too careless, seeing things in the night that no one should see, had not seen anything after that.

"We should have some music tonight, don't you think Cousin Balin?", Oín asked, testing the ointment he was mixing on his skin, satisfied with the texture. The white-bearded dwarf was not comfortable with being called cousin by Oín, who seemed to take their kinship as an excuse to bend Balin's ears, just like his father always loved to on banquets. Balin knew that one could not choose one's kin, only hope they would forget about their relation, as his father Fundin used to say - but it surely was annoying to have the youngster cling to him. His other cousin, Gloín on the other hand was not interested in talking to kin but the woman he was courting, detailing about her beauty whenever he could, but never as talkative as his brother, afraid the other men might too get interested in his future wife.

Balin put another bait onto the hook, throwing out his fishing pole again, answering Oin, "If Thorin agrees, we can make have music tonight – but I'm fairly sure he does not wish to hear songs, until we have freed our brothers and friends."

The grey-haired dwarf quickly looked over to where his brother was dozing in the sun, as if worried his brother might also be taken any moment; for no matter how much they were bickering over who was better at making fire, and whose beard was was longer, the mere thought of losing his little brother was much too painful to bear to Oin.

Their company was small, and Balin often worried if it had not been a mistake to not take more dwarfs from the Ered Luin with them. But as the saying went - finding two dwarfs agreeing was rarer than a diamond of gold, and between the eight of them fights were such a common occurrence, it was of no small wonder they had traveled this far together without breaking up.

Everyday, Oín scolded Bombur for overeating, Nori mocked Gloin for his infatuation with a woman who did not even know his name, Dori tried to appease everybody and was frowned upon for his courtly behavior in return, Bombur suspected Nori of stealing his private provisions, and Bifur despised Oín for taunting his cousin Bombur. Balin hoped to be blessed with daughters one day and not sons, sick of arguing with the company of young dwarfs every waking day, seeing to them not breaking their bones and heads.

When they had set forth, the six young dwarfs of the company had been shy and polite, respecting their king and taking their mission seriously; but in the two carefree months riding through the Shire, which they spend many a day drinking and inquiring men, riding in broad daylight, sometimes even spotting an fleeting halfling and laughing heartily at its fright, they had all abandoned their awestruck veneration of Thorin, and even were making some fun of him now and then.

Balin had long given up on coaching his friend to behave regally, seeing how his 'subjects' were quickly becoming friends; only Dori could not get used to the sight of his king carrying neither crown nor jewelery, at times getting so boiling drunk he had to be carried to his bedding, picking fights with men who called him gnome, and cursing in wildest khuzdul when angry, making even the bawdily Nori blush.

In his and Thorin's letters to Dís, Balin sometimes had to fight the urge to weave in some adventures, wishing to make the letters less repetitive and more exciting to those reading them - but except for fights with drunken men, their journey had been most pleasant so far. The weather was holding up, no Wargs or Orcs crossing their path and with no sign of the mysterious 'wolves'.

Balin thought he had a fairly good idea who and what these 'wolves' might be, and found much to his surprise Thorin not refuting him; it seemed as if his kingly friend had some knowledge he did not wish to share with his company, which bothered Balin more than he liked to admit.  
Him and Thorin had been friends for ages, and fought side by side; why would Thorin now choose to keep secrets from him, as if he did not trust him anymore?

Balin did not think _him_ keeping secrets from Thorin to be unusual - he simply did not consider it wise to tell his friend things which might led him to rash decisions – but the dark-haired dwarf succeeding in keeping something to himself was somewhat … _hurtful_.  
Staring at some point in the distance, lost on thought, he never noticed Bifur sneaking up to him, and was utterly surprised to find himself suddenly being pushed into the brook, hearing roaring laughter before submerging.

Raising from the waters like an angry water demon, the dripping wet dwarf grabbed the closest leg, which happened to be Dori's, and pulled the shrieking stripling into the brook, before climbing the bankside to go after the other dwarfs, who fled from him laughing, mocking the king of the brook, crowned with duckweed.

Watching his company from the top of the hill, Thorin chuckled, wondering if seven young dwarfs against one angry Balin wasn't an unfair match – for the others dwarfs of course. He briefly considered helping his company out; but he trusted his friend to not drown all of them at once. Thorin closed his eyes and sighed happily, resting against the warm bark, truly at ease, the wind rustling the dry grass, smiling to himself and wishing only, for this summer day to never come to an end.


	36. Second Moon of Autumn 2872

_What a monsterous chapter! Forgive :(! But I could not split it! next update is thursday, but shorter! promise!  
_

* * *

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Second Moon of Autmn 2872 ~  
**

"...two-hundred-and-thirty-seven...", Ori counted, tallying the number on a sheet of paper, suppressing a yawn. Usually, he enjoyed inventorying, counting barrels and bags with the other scribes, feeling useful and important as he fulfilled his duty in the depth of night; but recently, he found his once favorite task dull and repetitive, longing to return to the royal chambers and his unteachable, lively students.

It had been two weeks since had last seen the boys, and he wondered how they were holding up, grounded on water and bread only - for their last prank had finally been the one to break the Oliphant's back.

The brothers had been pardoned for putting frogs in the wine barrels, for writing their names on statues, for hiding tools and swords, and even for breaking expensive glasses whilst playing – but breaking their grandfather Thrain's harp had been too much to let them get away with.  
Fíli and Kíli had been genuinely sorry, crying and begging their parents for forgiveness, once for disobey and entering the old king's chambers and second for playing with the precious heirloom; but all their begging was in vain, as their mother would have no more of their boorishness, locking them in their room after taking away all their toys, to have them distributed amongst the children of the Ered Luin as extra punishment.

Ori pitied the boys, recalling their forlorn faces as he brought them their primers, them desperately promising him to continue their studies on their own, until they were allowed to leave their room again, begging their teacher tearfully to tell their mother they had not meant to be bad, and would behave and be good boys if she only would come to see them again.

The redhead did not have the heart to tell Fíli and Kíli that he could never muster the courage to address the princess of Durin's folk, her mere presence making him swoon; his students regrettably where on their own, trying to win back their mother's grace.

* * *

"We could write her a letter! Mother does like letters!", Kíli suggested, balancing on an imaginary line on the floor. Fíli did not look up from his book, reading the sentence for the tenth time, trying to figure out if the dragon ate the king or the king ate itself.

"I doubt she would even _open_ it – besides, we won't be given any ink or paper, have you forgotten already dimwit? Only one book for each, and nothing else."

"But how are we to practise writing... and don't call me dimwit! I am no dimwit!", The little boy complained, rubbing his stomach which grumbled nosily, craving food other than bread and water. Surely hunger in Dunland had never been this bad; for they had not know what deliciousness could be cooked up in a king's kitchen at his every whim, food being plentiful in the Ered Luin.

The boy's room was barren, since even the tapestries had been taken from it; the only thing left in the dwarf boy's chamber was the bed and a huge amount of boredom. At first, shocked their mother's anger and the trouble they had gotten themselves into, they had just been crying, feeling bad for misbehaving and breaking their mother's beloved heirloom; but after three days, resignation had set in, and they went looking about for a way to escape their prison, all their oaths of accepting any punishment as a given long forgotten.

But no matter how hard they looked, there was no way out of their room, except though the door, which was guarded by huge, taciturn guards who looked about as if they would love to spank the boys till unconcious, if they just_ tried_ to turn the door handle.

Whilst Kíli was just bored and unhappy, hoping to have his mother forget and forgive him soon, things were a different matter with Fíli. The elder boy did not see how his behavior was the cause of his confinement; he suspected his mother and father did not wish for him and Kíli to be round them, and thus locked them up, so they could not embarrass them. He had long stopped feeling sorry for breaking the harp, and started wishing he had broken even more. Fíli felt bitter for being abandoned by his parent's, swearing to himself that the moment the door was unlocked, he was going to run away; then they would be 'free' from their 'burden', and he could finally do as he wish and run where he wanted without being scolded constantly.

"Do you think mother will come to see us tonight?", Kíli asked hopefully, trying to play hopscotch, jumping from one point to another; but Fíli only huffed annoyed, ignoring his little brother, convinced not one dwarf would ever understand how bitter he was feeling – not one!

* * *

"Another cup of tea, your highness?"

Dís turned to find her gentlewoman standing right behind her, irritated to find Rés still waiting upon her in the middle of the night whilst she was signing papers.

"No, I do not wish for any more tea, dear Rés. Please, feel free to leave and rest - I shall not be in need of your service tonight."

But Rés had already started unbraiding her princess's hairdo, skillfully untangling strands and removing hair pins and combs without hurting one single hair. Dís tried to be annoyed with her friend, but could not help a comfortable feeling taking her over – oh, she had always loved having her hair done, and truly enjoyed the feeling of tender hands on her hair.

Humming softly, Rés combed Dís golden hair, envying its beauty since they had been little girls.

"Say, my highness – do you not wish to forgive your children already? Surely it must pain you, to have them locked up, all lonely and sad?"

Dís winced, the comfortable feeling gone, thinking of her poor children, defending her actions weakly, "I wish I could set them free, with all my heart I wish I could... But I have overindulged my sons since we returned to the Ered Luin, and thereby have spoiled their minds and hearts. When they have learned their lesson, they will be set free, and then will receive proper training in manners and arts by a strong hand."

Rés made a disapproving sound, reproaching her princess, "Proper training you say? Leaving them all to themselves? Besides, I do not think your sons are spoiled – if you just think about how full of privation their lives have been until now! My, I would not ever stop spoiling my son had he shared their fate! And say - are you sure my highness, you are not just afraid of what others might think of Fíli and Kíli? For compared to how spoiled _you_ and Frerin were – my, they are ever _so_ humble!"

The blond dwarf princess refused to let her friend's words sink in, for her consciousness did not need another accuser; but she knew Rés did have a point. Dís truly was afraid her sons' behavior to be held against them, if there ever was another upheaval; her sons thought they were only playing pranks - for they did not see the scornful, envious eyes resting upon them on their careless steps.

Laying the silver brush aside, the dwarf woman loosely braided Dís' hair for the night, before going about the room, extinguishing the candles, teasing her friend who sat on the edge of the huge canopy bed, "But as for a strong hand – ha, you're surely are not alluding to my son's skills! For as learned as he is... My little Ori surely is no strong hand! He is much like his father, may he rest in piece. A gentle, romantic soul – but without the least desire for fights and glory."

Dís looked at her friend piqued, thinking it indecent of the red-haired woman to talk about her late husband in such a disrespectful way, clearly voicing her disapproval, "Rés! How can you be so coarse about Borí! He has not been dead for a year, and you talk as if you never had any love for him!"

Rés shrugged as she put the last burning candle into a candlestick to sit it on the bed table, and fluffed up the pillows of the princess's bed.

"Well, what do nI know. But you see, Borí and I … were simply not made for each other."

Dís crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at her flippant gentlewoman, scolding her, "You are telling me _NOW_ you did _marry_ him without _loving _him? And broke Balin's heart, and ruined his friendship with Borí – for _nothing_?"

Rés laughed heartily, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she explained to Dís, "_Nothing_? No, it was hardly_ nothing_ – I truly loved Borí once, or twice or... well, believe me, there was fire! Though I admit I did married him out of spite, and not of love. You may judge me all you like, but I do not regret the choices I made – do you?"

Dís was taken aback by the indecent inquiry, knowing what Rés was hinting at, her eyes prying.

"I- I – how dare _you _ask me if I regret _my_ decision?"

Grinning broadly, Rés sat down next to her friend on the edge of the bed, poking her in the side gently, questioning her, "So – you -_ do_?"

The blond dwarf protested vehemently, her eyes cast down and cheeks red with embarrassment, "I most certainly do not! You know I never loved anybody but my husband!"

Dís looked surreptitiously at her desk, glad to see she had put the tiny silver figure back into the oaken chest, burring it beneath dresses and clothes; Rés surely would never believe her that she had kept it only for liking the craft, and not for having any feelings for the giver.

Rés had always considered it her place to advise the younger Dís, and their friendship had suffered greatly when the princess chose to ignore her words and married Eflí, son of Gífli, a kindhearted miner. The princess had broken a law so old it to never had been written down - for every dwarf, or at least every dwarf women knew about it.

A dwarf man was allowed to court and marry any dwarf woman least she would have him – it was of no concern if her social standing, her heritage or her riches were of no existence, since she was going to share her husband's position and riches. But dwarf _women_ were not meant to marry below their social status; a merchant daughter was not allowed to choose a beggar, and a princess was allowed to marry a peasant, for the peasant would become part of the royal line, and possibly heir to the throne one day! A shocking idea, which had angered many Erebor dwarfs. No, a dwarf princess surely was not meant to marry a peasant – all the more if there was a king longing to marry her!

After the battle of Battle of Azanulbizar, Dain Ironfoot had ridden with Thorin to the Ered Luin, to recover from his injuries and deepen the friendship between the dwarfs of the Ironhills and the Erebor and Ered Luin. It was then he had set eyes on Dís first, and had deeply fallen in love with her, against all the odds, being only thirty-two and seven years younger than the lady of his heart. Thrain had not objected Dain's courting, counting on his army to win back the Erebor in time, and even Thorin would have forgiven his friend falling for his sister one day, respecting him as a noble, brave warrior. But nevertheless, Dís had rejected the young dwarf, and sent him back to Wilderland with a broken heart. Surely, she had not meant to hurt as she told him, how she could not see a future with him, as her visions showed her none - but thinking back, Dís now regarded her naive, honest words as cruel, wishing with all her heart for Dain to finally find true love, after seventy-three years of loneliness. The silver figure he had given her as an token of his affection when they parted, had been with her all times, and Dís liked to think of it as a lucky charm; but now it was a heavy reminder of her inconsiderateness when she was younger.

Rés smoothed the blankets as she got up, and bowing slightly, bid Dís a good night, seeing how her friend would have no more of her teasing. Before closing the door, she turned and smiled at her friend sadly. "You have a strong heart, haven't you?Say Dís, you would not marry for anything but love... And I do not know if I should envy you, or pity you."

* * *

_Dear Dís,_

_Forgive me not writing the promised letter to y(inkstain), it was just a you said – please, do not hold me failing against me, but you __ (inkstain)_what you elder brother is like.  
The art of the quill was never easy to me, and I wonder if one day I shall find the time to master writing artful letters like Balin does – mI doubt ten years would do, so(crossedout) forgive me. But my poor Balin is too sick to write, and I am worried for him night and day. I do not kno(inkstain)  
finds you before spring, for I have to give it to(crossedout) men using the old pass through the Misty Mountains. To think men folk does know about our paths has grieved my heart quite, dear sister –  
but listening to their tale, I see it is not betrayed secrets making them find the way to and from Mountain Gundabad, but despair.  
Men are fleeting the Misty Mountains, and had warned us to head for the Grey Mountains, but we would not hear any of it – now the(inkstaininkstaininkstain) regret not listening to them. We are hiding in an abandoned farmhouse now, Dori and Nori keeping watch (inkstain)are the only ones not wounded.  
We had traveled the mountain pass safely before first snow fell on it, taking only three weeks to cros(inkstain). I thought we were save when we were attacked by Orcs - just as night set!  
They must have followed(crossedout) us for some time since we passed Gundabad, but we never noticed them – we were foolish enough to believe there were little to none Orcs left after the Battle at Moria, and (crossedout)(inkstain) dare to go after a dwarf! My companions fought braver than any dwarfs I've ever had the honor to(inkstain) with. We fled and had to leave our ponies behind – I am very sorry for the creatures, they were likeable for ho(inkstain) –  
and we still barely escaped alive! Balin got hurt badly, an arrow hit him in the leg – thank Mahal it was not poison,  
but he still got a fever from it and is sick, very sick! Oin is taking good care of him, and says he will (crossedout) likely(inkstain) – but I can't find much sleep, worrying. I wish we could just forget this quest and return home, but from (inkstain)heared, we mustn't abandon our mission now,  
as there are dreadful things happening in the grey mountains – they are (crossedoutcrossedoutcrossedo ut). Forgive my inconsideration, I do not wish to trouble your mind dearest sister with worries far away – so please, rest assured, we will be back all safe and well. I promise to not cause you any grief! Tell Fíli and Kíli my(inkstain)ve  
and greet your husband as well,

_Thy brother Thorin, missing you greatly_


	37. Third Moon of Autumn 2872

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Third Moon of Autumn 2872 ~  
**

"Thorin?", Balin asked weakly, turning his head towards the source of the light, his movements slow and painfully. The black-haired dwarf rushed to his friend's side, anxiously inquiering after the other dwarf's health, "Balin? What is it – are you thirsty? Shall I get you some water? A blanket? Something to-"

Balin coughed as he sat up, pushing Thorin's hands aside as he tried to steady him, snarling at him, "I just want some quiet and solitude! Your brooding in that goddamn chair is as obnoxious as a herd of trolls waltzing through the room! Get out of here! Go to _sleep_! Bah! All you need to do is some clucking, and voila – here's the perfect mother hen!"

Thorin sighed, and chose not to answer his irritated friend, keeping in mind how sick Balin was, and thus could not be seen accountable for his words. So the dark-haired dwarf just kept close to the other as he stumbled to the chamber pot, keeping a little but of distance, but ready at a moment's notice to catch the invalid least he fell. True enough, when he had finished, Balin did not seem as indignant about a helping hand returning him to bed, swaying dangerously as he tried to not put too much weighed on his wounded leg.

Staring at the wall whilst his friend tucked him in, Balin stubbornly refused to acknowledge he was in need of any aid taking care of himself; only when Thorin turned his back at him, he quickly muttered a barely audible, "Thank you.", before quickly pretending to be fast asleep, hoping his friend would finally leave his side and get some rest as well. But the good friend would not leave the sick's bedside, no matter how much the patient demanded it; hour upon hour, Thorin sat on the broken chair, leaving through a book the former inhabitants of the house had left back in their hurried flight.

The humans had not been able to take much with them, before the Orcs raided their village, burning and destroying most houses and killing any unlucky men and livestock they could find. The dwarf company was nervous, staying in the destroyed town, and there was not one amongst them who did not wish to leave; but they had set forth too soon from their first camp, and Thorin would not risk losing any of his men just to make haste. Balin's health had worsened again after five days of riding, the fever returning worse than before, and the ruler of the Ered Luin blamed himself most for believing the white-bearded dwarf's assertion he was all fine, and continuing their quest way too soon. For long, Balin could keep up appearances, hiding his sickness from the others - only when he broke into shivers, more clinging to the pony than riding it, he could no longer keep his act up and was quickly put to rest, protesting the life saving treatment of his friends bitterly as he lay on the bed.

"Men are strange... Why do they read sad stories to amuse them?", Thorin mumbled to himself, surprised to have Balin answer him having thought his friend asleep.

"For they do not understand anything, and need to be taught even about their hears. They think it-'cough' it is good have others read about their souls on paper - even when they are gone. Pah! Well, no dwarf would ever bare his soul like that!"

The black-haired dwarf chuckled at his friend sounding and looking much like a disgruntled owl, his hair standing up like feathers, unkempt for days as he would not let anybody take care of him; Thorin was wise enough to not point out how Balin himself loved to write letters, detailing everything.

"I did not know for you to be adept in men's literature Balin – did you get to read their books in the Ered Luin?"

Balin groaned as he turned his back at Thorin, grumbling sullenly, "I never liked any of these books... But Rés could not have enough of them - _oh! How romantic!_ she would go on and on... So I read some, painfully boring as they were – nah, could have spared me the trouble! For fat chance I stood against Borí, breathing in books as he went about!"

Thorin wondered if he should console his friend, trying to ease the pain of his heart – but given the mood Balin was in currently, he could not possibly say anything which would make the world more tolerable to the sick dwarf. Silence fell upon them as the candle burned down, it's light fading, taking with it the king's only entertainment for the night.

* * *

"Thorin?", Balin's hesitant voice rang in the quiet darkness, startling the royal dwarf who had nodded off, wondering how long he had been asleep. Finding his way even in the dark, having crossed the room countless times, Thorin kneed down at his friend's side, resting his hand on his shivering shoulder.

"Yes Balin? What is it?"

Thorin could feel the fever burning his friend and tried to cool him down, by wiping his face with a cold cloth, listening patiently to his friend's fever talk, "Tell me Thorin – have I been a bad brother? I have not heard of Dwalin so long, but never considered looking for him! Only when my worries were gone, I found the time and heart to remember about my little brother – what if he is dead? What if he died and nobody burried him – you know how humans can be- And we are so close to the mountains already- only a bit more- what if it is true what the men say, about what is going on there - why did I ever let him go, I am no good-"

Thorin interrupted his friend, gently shaking him to wake him from his feverish delirium, "Balin, you are a very good friend and an even better brother! Dwalin set out of his own will, so do not blame yourself for letting him go about his way. And I am sure Dwalin is still alive, for he is as stubborn as you, and will probably live hundred years longer than both of us. Now please, rest and get well, my dear friend; I'd hate to lose you to a Orc's clumsy arrow, when there lies much battle ahead of - _Balin_?"

Finding his friend having fallen asleep during his verbose consolation, Thorin placed the cool rug on the feverish dwarf's forehead, and went to pull the chair over next to the bed to be by his side. As it had been for man, the chair was rather uncomfortable for a dwarf, but the king of Durin's folk still dozed off in no time, vision of Frerin haunting Thorin's dreams, asking him sadly why he had not been a better brother.

* * *

"Thank you very much dear father.", Fíli politely replied and bowed deeply; but there was no joy in his words, no exhilarated outcry of gratitude for the beautiful gift. Blendfall was a sword made for kings, sharp and beautiful as the sunrise; a whisper went round the room as the boy accepted it, the guests marveling at the blade of steel and sheath of silver shimmering and reflecting the lights. Kíli was too impressed to even be envious for his elder brother's birthday gift, standing with gaping mouth next to him, a half-eaten muffin in his hand, grumbling away.

Two days ago, the boys had been released from their room after one month of arrest, just in time for Fíli's birthday; but it seemed the blond boy would rather have stayed locked up, looking dejectedly at his own birthday party. Whilst his little brother had pretty much forgotten why he had ever been grounded the very moment the door was unlocked, bursting forth and running the halls cheering his regained freedom, Fíli seemed to have learned his lesson frighteningly well; he was only speaking when he was addressed, sitting still for hours, not wandering the halls on his own. Suprisingly, his new, good behaving worried his parents a lot more than his rowdiness had before, them exchanging confused looks over the heads of the children, asking each other if they had done wrong.

"Would you like to play with your guests a bit?", Dís asked her son, nervous at her son's unchanging smile as turned towards her, his quiet words, said without any emotions making her skin crawl.

"No, thank you very much mother, for being considerate. But I would rather not. Would you like some tea, or cake? I would love to serve you, dearest mother."

Had he been sarcastic, mocking her with his words, Dís would been relieved, scolding her son, but glad to find him unchanged inside, being the same fun-loving, kindhearted boy she loved so much. Her heart felt as if a whole mountain rested upon it, guilt driving tears to her eyes watching her child; she had meant to discipline him, but not to bent him until he broke!

* * *

Gífli emptied his beer mug, and decided he had had enough of the party, considering it boring compared to the harvest festival of the twelve years in Dunland; but was he expecting, these dwarfs were no longer farmers and hunters – and therefore had no need to be grateful and celebrate for days if a harvest had come in unharmed by hail and storm and cold. He shook his bald head at his own thoughts, mumbling to himself, "Must be getting old and sentimental, pf... Missing _Dunland_!"

Seeing how his son stood close by, all by himself, Gífli pushed his way through the crowd, hissing a warning at Eflí as he passed him, "The greatest danger below the mount is the blindness of the heart, not the eyes!", before leaving the grand hall, headed for the main gate, to at least see the sun once before it set for the day.  
He had never doubted that a dwarfs place was below the mountain once in his life; but seeing how his grandchildren were changing for the worse, he wondered if some dwarfs were just simply born to wander in the sunlight, as they seemed to wither away in the darkness of ancient caverns - but who would take those children to a place where they might flourish?


	38. Third Moon of Autumn 2872, Part 2

**King on the mountain**

* * *

**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**

* * *

**~ Third Moon of Autumn 2872 ~  
**

Fíli carefully slipped out of bed, holding his breath as he reached for the bag hidden beneath the wooden frame, nervous and scared to hear his brother stir at any moment; but Kíli continue to sleep soundly, not even waking up when Fíli bumped against their desk in the dark where he lay his farewell letter down. He had briefly considered letting his brother in on his plan; but knowing Kíli, he would have cried and told their parents; he was to small to understand why Fíli had to leave the mountains when he himself was happy here, and probably would have come with him anyway. but running away from home was serious business, and Fíli did not need a baby to tag along, crying all the way, being tired or hungry or homesick; so he had to leave Kíli in the dark, ignoring his nagging conciousness, but thinking it best for his little brother to stay behind.

For three days, Fíli had been laying up at night, listening for the changing of the guard, and he was confident about his time table; he would leave the Ered Luin unnoticed, and make his way to the next men town, where he would hide on a merchant's cart and travel back to Dunland. On the map he had seen in his mother's chambers, Dunland did not seem as far away; maybe the journey would take him one or two weeks only, if there was nobody by his side to slow him down. He would live in their old home, and hunt birds and hares when he was hungry; and when the Wargs came, he would show them how sharp his new sword was.

He slowly moved forward, keeping to the shadows, and felt a bit proud as he had reached the main gate without being seen by anybody – now he only need to pass the gate when the guards weren't looking. Fíli was watching the guards intensely, blind to his surroundings, never realizing he was being watched as well; only when two strong hands came to rest on his shoulders, causing the boy to scream with fright the dwarf child became aware of his pursuer.

"_WAAAAH! Let go off me_ – father?"

Fíli stopped struggling against the firm hold of the adult, bitterly disappointed to see all his efforts had been in vain as he recognized his father. The grey-haired dwarf smiled sadly at his son, disappointed as well – but not at his child, but at his own failure as a father, aware of his son's attempt to run away.

Taking the miserable boy's hand, he took him back into the mountain, trying to choose his words wisely, as to not hurt or mock his son, "Fíli, say … Would you, - would you mind talking to me? I think there are some things- uh, bothering you, my son?"

Sighing in frustration, the blond boy agreed, staring down at the marble floor as they walked to the royal chambers, "If you wish to talk father... I am obliged."

* * *

Closing the doors behind them, Eflí wished his wife could join him, so he did not have to face his son by himself; but he knew the distance between Fíli and him had grown this vast only for his neglect of the child and the fear of saying things wrong. They sat in silence, the boy holding his bag in front of him as if it were a shield, protecting him from the severe reprimand he was expecting, the look on his face obstinate, his eyes still avoiding Eflí's.

The elder dwarf tried to reach out for his son, his voice indulgent, "Fíli... I am sorry. I know we should not have punished you for being just a child. "

Fíli finally looked his father in the eye, angered, his voice filled with bitterness as he echoed Eflí's words, "I am _not_ 'just a child' father!"

"You are not?"

Fíli shook with anger at his father's soothing tone, yelling at him, "No! I am** thirteen**! I am_ not a child_!"

Eflí was taken aback at his son shouting at him, wondering when his little boy had become such an unruly child; back in Dunland, he never would have raised his voice at his parents!

"You will not yell at me, young dwarf! Why are you so- so defiant? What happens to you Fíli! Do you not posses everything you ever wished for? You and Kíli have been given a life of plenty – and all you have been doing his acting like a spoiled _brat!_"

Seeing tears of hurt well up in the boy's eyes, Eflí immediately regretted his choice of words, trying to take them back quickly, "See Fíli, I did not mean to scold you- but why are you so unhappy? Why are you being unruly when everything is good now?"

"Because it is not!", the boy howled, throwing his bag to the ground and running for the door, kicking his father as he stopped him and picked him up with ease to hold him tight, demanding an explanation, "Why? Why is it not good? Just what is wrong Fíli?"

"You would _never_ understand!", the dwarf boy cried sobbingly, still trying to free himself; but his father would not let him go, confused at the reason behind his son's pain.

"What wouldn't I understand? Tell me Fíli, I promise you I will try and understand – but tell me! Please tell my ferðloca!"

Fíli gave up his fight and went limp, crying quietly against his father's chest; he did not wish to explain himself, but could not stop the words once he started, "You -sob- you -can't understand! To y-you -sob-_ everything_ is good here! You are not be-being-sob- ordered round! Nobody-sob- tells you you are not -sob- d-d-oing anything right! -sob- You don't have to-sob- have to sit in-sob-in your room all day! You are n-not-sob- yelled at if y-you play just for once! You can't understand how boring life is here-sob- and I am n-not allowed to do -sob-_anythin-n!_ I don't w-w-sob-want to live h-here!-sob- you don't love me a-anymore-sob-! I am just a b-b-burden to youu-sob-!"

Eflí felt sorry for his son, and blamed himself for never once thinking about how hard it might be for his children to adapt to the customs of the Ered Luin. They had spent all their lives in Dunland, poor, but carefree; they had had duties, but also plenty of time to play, they were in constant danger, but never by themselves. Now, they had food and drink and everything was fair, and he and Dís had stopped worrying about their children's everyday life, thinking them happy and content with their new, sweet life in the Ered Luin, when obviously they were not.

"No, you are never a burden to me my beloved son! Oh, I am sorry Fíli, I am so sorry – why did you ever start thinking your mother and I do not love you with all our hearts! My poor boy! Why, we never considered you could be unhappy here. So please, do forgive us- _no_, forgive_ me_ for not being there for you! Oh my poor little boy... But I promise things will change from now on - for the better!"

Fíli looked at his father with doubtful eyes, sniveling, not wanting to believe his words; it was probably just another lie, and in the end they would lock him up in his room again, so he would not bother them as they went about their daily business. When his father carried him back to his bed room, apologizing over and over, Fíli still was unsure if he wished to give his father another chance, or should try to run away again this very night, feeling as if there was nobody in the whole world whom he could trust but himself anymore.


	39. First Moon of Winter 2872

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

_My dearest Dís,_

_forgive for not keeping up with my writings(inkstain). Much has happened since my last(crossedout) letter to you, but I can not(inkstain)(inkstain)(crossedout) I have not much time to write this one. A stranger is passing through the Grey Mountains, who claims to be headed for(inkstain) the Shire, and offers to carry my letter – but I doubt the old man will make it through the Mountains alive. He is old and clad in(crossedout) rags, and needs a huge walking stick to support himself – __(inkstain_)he will freeze to death in no time! But the mad man still wants to leave today, old food. I will give him this letter still(inkstain) hoping fate may have it find a way to you. Balin is doing(inkstain) very well again, and we made good progress until (crossedout) winter came. We are staying in a men settlement(crossedout) for the time, with some rather friendly townsfolk – they are giving us food for free, and a place to sleep. A welcome change, after(inkstain) all the problems(inkstain) we had with (crossedout)men since come to the Grey Mountains. Balin is being suspicious of them, but I think it is just his nerves. Ne is barely sleepin(crossedout), always walking about and inquiring men if they(inkstain) have not seen his brother_(inkstain)_Dwalin – but apparently the only dwarf they know is one called(inkstain) Drór, who lives by himself in a hut. If the weather clears up, we shall go and see him – mayb(instain)he(inkstain)(inkstain) forgi(inkstain)my quill is brok(inkstain)!

_Forgiv(Inkstain)short(inkstain)_

_Thy(inkstain)Thor(inkstain)in(inkstain)_

* * *

_Dear Dís,_

_I hope you are doing well, and that the winter in the Ered Luin will not be as harsh as last year.  
Are Fíli and Kíli doing fine? I hope they are making great progress in sword fighting and writing!  
Here the snow is piling up so high we probably won't make it to the old mines of Dain  
in the Grey Mountains in months – I am sorry now, for not believing my good friend Balin,  
that he was well enough to ride, so we could have reached the mines before the onset of winter!  
Now we are residing in a farmer's broken shack, where he used to keep his goats –  
it smells dreadful, but at least we were allowed to stay within the city fortifications._

_Some eight hundred men are still living here, and are putting up a good fight against Wargs and Orcs,  
telling us drily that as long as the Orcs are swarming the area,  
dragons aren't near, so they aren't unhappy about their 'neighbors'.  
I – erh, I mean, Balin does not trust the men in town, thinking them far to friendly,  
after all the hostility we faced on before – maybe I should listen to him, and put up more watches,  
least we will be taken in the middle of the night._

_The men are claiming they know nothing about the _wolves_, but are nervous when being inquired –_  
_ they probably know very well what is going on, and maybe even sold off the dwarfs of their town, _  
_just as Balin tells me again and again, and what I should finally accept as likely possibility-_  
_ erh, forgive me, dear sister, I am writing silly things confusing you I am afraid.  
_

_Well, once the snow storm is over, we shall set out for the only dwarf left in the Ered Mithrin,_  
_ called Drór, who shall live nearby, all alone – which does sound quite suspicious to me!_  
_I hope this will not turn out to be a trap. Surely the_ wolves_ already know we are here,  
and plan to take back what belongs to us – so pray for us dear Dís,  
that we will see them first when they are coming for us!_

_Now, I have to end this letter, to hand it to the old man setting forth this morning –_  
_he calls himself Tharkûn, and has a mighty beard worth of any dwarf,_  
_and quite possible he will make it cross the Misty Mountains even in winter,_  
_for I am sure there is more to him than meets the eye._  
_Do treat him kindly if he truly does arrive in the Blue Mountains –_  
_I feel I shall see him once again and need his help._

_Live well and in peace dear sister, until we hopefully see each other again in spring, all well and healthy!_

_With all my love,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

_P.s.: Please disregard my first letter dear sister, it was written in great haste and probably does not make much sense I am afraid.  
_

_Your Ba(crossedout) Thorin_

* * *

_Tear uncle(inkstain),_

_(inkstain)(inkstain)I am writting yo a letterr, and hobe youu(inkstain) gett it soon. Ori toes not dhink it will arriv, bud I t (inkstain) belief it will! I am toing fin, and Kíli doo(inkstain). Father is taking us to the mines ant we (inkstain) laern a lot! We miss you very much(inkstain), but it is not ture that Kíli misses you more!(inkstain)(inkstain) He can not effen reat yte but he says he will (inkstain)write yo a letter doo. Moter and father are well(inkstain). I got a (inkstain) sword for my birttday. Kíli's bow brok and he(inkstain) neds a new on but father says he has to(inkstain) earne it. I let him play with sword(inkstain) so he is not criing doo much. I hobe yor toing welll and have a goot solisticicee. Come back well tear uncle Torin, we miss yo much!_

_Yor Fíli and Kíli_


	40. First Moon of Winter, Part 2 2872

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

"I just _can't believe it_!"

"Balin...", the dark-haired dwarf grumbled, sinking in up to his knees as he tried to clear a way through the snow.

"After _all these years_, it is still the same with you Thorín!"

"_Balin_...", the king warned his friend, his fingers twitching dangerously, fantasy's of murder on his royal mind as he lifted his weary legs and took another step.  
But Balin either did not sense the danger he was in, or brazenly carried on despite knowing how much his words irked Thorin, "Just how old do you have to get to NOT lose your way? The instructions were clear up the first hill, one hour to the east, then left when mount Tàrs is showing on your right, and you_ CAN'T MISS IT_! Goddarnit you stubborn dwarf, I can tell you up to the very spot where we went astray! BAH! It's no use! You'd get lost under the mountain you were born in!"

"**BALIN! _ENOUGH_!**", Thorin angrily yelled at his friend over his shoulder, causing the white-haired dwarf to pout and fall silent for some time as they marched on through the forest. But after the company had climbed another slope, pausing wheezing at the top, Balin could not help himself but as to remark, "Oh for crying out loud... Great Mahal, we've been walking in circles! Look at that tree – I marked it five hours ago!"

The exhausted dwarfs looked over at the birch tree, and true enough, found it marked with three horizontal cuts; groaning in frustration, Bombur and Dori sank to the ground, looking miserable, lamenting their situation, "We shall never find a way out of this forest! _We will starve_! We will freeze! _This is horrible! We are out of bread!_ Your highness, what shall we do?"

Thorin looked at his companions helplessly, just as tired and frustrated, having waded through the snow since first daylight. The dwarf was despairing, wondering what he was supposed do to – as a king, he had to lead them, but he had lost the way; he could beg Balin to guide them, who easily would find a way back – but his pride would not have him, afraid of the gleefulness the other would resolve to! For even as young dwarfs, his friend had made merciless fun of the prince for getting lost when left to his own, always being late for not finding a way back home in time. Thorin had spent years wandering middle earth, but he still could not follow any directions, and was highly sensitive on being mocked about it.

The winter sun was setting, and the clouds on the western sky were hanging low, possibly carrying snow; they needed to find a shelter for the night, or return to the town in a hurry, before darkness and snow fall caught them outside.

"Yes, say, what shall we do now king?", Nori inquired Thorin, his tone close to disrespect, his face red and bluish from the biting winter cold and anger. For a dwarf of his age, Nori's beard was rather short, which made him freeze even more than his friends; the beard looked as if t had been shaved off with quite some force not long ago, which made Thorin worry the rumors about the other dwarf's illicit business on the side were true - for his behavior surely was rude enough to discredit Nori to almost anybody. But he could not let his feelings get in the way, not when the company was in dire need of solidarity. So, despite being exasperated by Nori's tone, Thorin tried to not give into his anger, answering through clenched teeth in what he thought was a calm voice, "Nori, I think we should-"

"_**Not be here**_."

* * *

The company whirled around, reading their weapons without wasting even a moment's time on thoight, stepping in front of their king before like one dwarf, before taking a real look at the threat suddenly presenting itself.

Seeing the nature of the threat, the young dwarfs glanced unsure at each other and finally all focused on Balin, as if it was his call to decided whether or not the dwarf they were facing was presenting any danger to their king.

_Dangerous_ was not the first word coming to their minds, seeing the old dwarf who stepped out of the thick wood of saplings which were bent to the ground by snow. Clad in fur and leather, carrying a might axe, he stood tall for a dwarf, his postures speaking of pride and dignity; but alas, how old he seemed to be! Old, even ancient the young dwarfs considered him to be; he seemed older than any dwarf they had ever met, despite his hair not being all white yet. There were still brown streaks in his short beard – but his eyes and face looked as if they had been carved out of stone by Mahal himself, cold and unmoving, as dead as only something that never lived might look.

The company of dwarfs flinched as the stranger addressed them, demanding an explanation, his sonorous voice sounding rightful, "These are_ my_ grounds – what business do you have, walking on the land of Drór without his consensus?"

Thorin cleared his throat, speaking for his friends and himself, nervous when the old, pale blue eyes looked him up and down, bringing up childhood memories of another old, harsh dwarf sizing him up.

"We- we are from the Blue Mountains, and- we, erh, are looking for – our mission is – uh, to find our friends and family, who have been taken here – and- if you are mister Drór, we would like to speak to, uh, you. Please."

The old dwarf mustered them quietly, no emotion showing on his face, and it was long before he nodded once and turned around, heading down the slope.  
The company stared after the old dwarf, unsure if they had actually been invited to follow the stranger or not; standing at the feet of the hill, the dwarf called Drór looked back, waiting for a moment before continuing his way - not once looking back again to see if the eight forlorn dwarfs were following him or not.


	41. Second Moon of Winter 2872

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

"So... fourteen splinters, three broken fingers, twelve cuts, one broken toe, a sprained wrist, and, not to forget, innumerable bruises and burns... Are you sure it is a good idea to continue taking them to the mines with you my son?"

Giflí gazed deep into his mug, disappointed at finding it empty already; surely Dís would not let him have another mug of beer, considering her father-in-law too drunk already, knowing just too wel how l he could hide the influence until it was too late.

Eflí sighed, also staring at his mug; it was of finest silver and gold, but surely beer had tasted better from an oaken mug, like they ones they had had in Dunland. What a sad solstice they were celebrating tonight, despite all their riches! Not for one hour he had found time to play with his sons, just handing them their gifts absentmindedly between the council leaving and the duchess of Ered Luin bursting in.

Eflí answered his father slowly, his voice slurred from having spent the day drinking; every dwarf under the Mountains would pay their respects to his wife, urging her and him to share a cup for good luck, resulting in his sad state.

"Faather, I doo shee yooou po-point- buuut, Fílii and Kíliii shaaall learrn the aaart of miniiin tooo. Beshides, theeey aare happi! Noot alwashy shiitting and writin and alllll shad a-and alon!"

The old dwarf slapped his son hard on the back to keep him from reeling over as he lent backwards dangerously, sending him almost head first onto the table.

"Well, I see your point too - but what good is it, if their hearts are well, but their bodies are ruined? They are not fit for hard work, and surely not for mining! They need air and a place to run! And they will never be miners nor scribes nor merchants, you know very well, you young fool!"

Dís was dozing off in the wing chair close to the fire place, exhausted after a long, busy day, only half listening to the two dwarfs arguing about her beloved sons, holding the latest letter of her brother in her hands; it had been written months ago in haste, the ink now half washed out, the paper torn and moldy. Her visions were not showing her any sight of the dear brother an of things to come – for her there was no way anymore to know if Thorin doing well or not.

As the argument between father and son grew louder and louder, it also reached the princess' ears, who found her worry returned to dwarfs closer at hand.

"Theey neeed to shtay unter te mooontai'nn!"

"They need to go outside, you MORON!"

"Thei aaa-aare shafe here! And happi!"

"WASTING AWAY"

"SHATYING ALIV'E!"

"GOING MAD!"

"Enough of this. Are you out of your minds?"

Dís quiet voice had the squabblers stop imminently and drop back on their chairs, hiding their fists, which just a moment ago had been ready to strike behind their backs, looking sheepishly.

"Shorry my deaaar.", Eflí apologized, trying to sober up by sheer will power, suppressing a hick-up, admiring how his wife was holding her beer so much better than he did.

Gífli nodded quickly, agreeing with his son, but pointing out to defend himself, "Sorry Dís, but you see - he started it."

Before they could start fighting again, they were silenced by Dís' raising eyebrow, speaking louder than words. Both men knew better than to anger a tired dwarf woman, and refrained from continuing their fight.

"You two should go to sleep, if all you can do is fighting. And _you_ my dear husband - you should go and sober up till morning. For did you not promise our _sons_ to take them outside tomorrow?"

Eflí tried to smile and reassure his wife that he had not forgotten about his promise; but apparently his face was giving away the lie as Dís' frown only deepened, her voice imperiously as she ordered her husband,"Go to sleep. You promised them to take care of them, and be a better father - _you will__ not __let them down_."

His head hanging low, long grey locks hding most of his face, Eflí muttered defeated, "I will not, my dear... Sleep well tonight.", leaving the room without kissing his wife goodnight, heading for his own chambers, his shoulder's slouched.

Gífli watch his son go, surprised at the coolness between the married couple; the distance between the two was wide and deep enough to hide a troll and five Orcs in there. Taking his mug, the old old bald dwarf quietly slipped out of Dís' chambers, leaving his daughter-in-law to herself, worried by the scene he had just witnessed – he had thought the young dwarfs love to be stronger than death, and now found it crumbling from the slightest touch!

As Gíflí wandered the halls, the guards to exchange confused glances as he passed them, an old dwarf wildly arguing with himself, twirling his white beard furiously, shaking his fist now and then at the stone, "These mountains are not what they used to be... Doing no good to dwarfs anymore, eh? Life in peace is not meant for dwarfs like those two, they get careless for each other... Hm, Hm... No good, no good... They need something to remind them how much they need each other! Yes, yes, they need something to remind them!"

* * *

"My hand hurts."

"Don't be such a baby Kíli... At least your hand is not _broken_."

The brothers lay awake on their bed, eyes wide open, peering into the darkness until purple spots appeared before their eyes. Suddenly Kíli sat up, clumsily fumbling at his nightgown with one hand, the other immobilized by bandages.

"What are you doing?", Fíli asked, only hearing his brother huff and struggle in the dark.

"My back itches!", the other boy explained, whining as he hit his wounded hand against his brother's chest, who had sat up to help him.

"Hold still and let me help you... There. Better now?"

Kíli nodded eagerly, grateful as his big brother scratched his back; woolen nightgowns were uncomfortable to begin with, but on scabbed-over wounds, the fabric was insufferable.

"Fíli?"

"Hm?"

"Do you really think father not will built a snow fort with us tomorrow?"

The elder boy stopped scratching the younger one's back, and with a sigh flopped back onto the mattress. Had Kíli still not understood they were not in Dunland anymore? He tried again to explain to his little brother once more why no winter would ever be like the ones they had know, hoping this time he would understand.

"Kíli, father just _can't_ built a snow fort with us, or have a snow ball fight or pretend to be a winter man – just like we can't play in the halls anymore. We are_ royal_ family now, you see? We have to be serious, and behave, and not run in the halls, and not pick our noses or put whoopee cushions on chairs."

The little boy frowned, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders as he felt cold without his gown, not quite understanding his brother, "But why? Why can we play only in our room? We were that rojal thing last year too, weren't we? Then we could play and pick our noses too!"

Rolling his eyes at his brother, Fíli tried to put it even more simple, annoyed by again and again having to explain something he did not fully understand either.  
"Because _now_, everybody _wants_ us to be royal! Last year, nobody _cared_ if we were royal – but now, we are being _watched_! We have to be good royalies, or we won't be allowed to be royal anymore!"

Kíli lay down next to his brother, thinking hard.

"Fíli?"

"Hm?"

"What actually_ is _royal?"

The room was silent for a long time, the simply question puzzling both children; for what did royal mean indeed? It was something about heritage, about being rich, and about having a uncle who was king – but then, why did it mean they could not do as they pleased anymore? If their uncle was king, he could order anybody to do as he wish, as could their mother, right? But both uncle and mother seemed to suffer a lot from what others ordered them to do, even if they were the ones ruling? Being royal was not easy, and did not make much sense if one thought about it; it meant having power, but being weak, of having riches, but not being allowed to go outside and play.

"Fíli?"

"Hm?"

"Being rojal is no fun."

"... No, it isn't.", the elder brother agreed, scratching his bandaged leg, rolling onto his side, yawning.

"Surely, it isn't..."

Soon, the children fell asleep, dreaming of a home above the ground.


	42. Second Moon of Winter 2872, Part 2

_Any wishes for the next chapter? Fun, drama,explanations? chapter 44 will be next thursday or friday, work life is a mess right now, sorry for not being able to keep up :(_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

Nori sat at the window, arms crossed, wearing a sullen look as he stared at the solid white wall of whirling snowflakes outside, complaining, "What is it with these lousy, rotten land! Nothing but snow, snow and more snow! How long do we have to stay here - years?!"

Balin agreed, sipping on the hot drink the head of the house had brewed, "Quite some storm indeed - a weather only fit to let one's beard grow! I hope we will not be snowed in Drór?"

The dwarf did not look up from his carving, sounding indignant at his guests' constant complaining, "The weather is given - whining about it will not change the heavens. And you will run into your fate soon, therefore do not worry about a few days being spared pain so great your souls will die."

Had they not gotten used to Drór's drastic choice of words, the company probably would have been startled; but his constant somber explications of of lay ahead of them had made them indifferent, not even little Dori not taking his words as a dire, truthful warning anymore.

Balin sighed, taking another sip of the bitter brew; surely it did not taste bad, this dark-brown powder stirred into hot milk - but if there had been two or five, or ten lumps of sugar to it, it would have tasted even better. But there was little sugar, and even less sweet things in the Ered Mithrin; why men and dwarfs ever choose to live here was beyond the dwarfs from the Ered Luin and Erebor.

Thorin sat in the darkest corner of the sitting room, his feet dangling in the air, since the wing chair he was sitting in was made for a heavy built man and not a dwarf. Most things in Drór's house were far too tall for dwarfs - Bifur, Dorí and Bombur easily fit into one of the men beds, and if they wanted to eat, they needed to use footstools to climb onto the chair, their arms barely reaching the plates when they sat round the kitchen table. The company felt like small children playing with the giant's furniture, cursing violently when they could not use what they need without some aid.

Bombur, Bifur and Dori were now rather playing cards on the floor than at the table, for their arms were aching from constantly having to reach up. It was not a merry game between the three of them, and before long they ended the game and went to bed without being tired, just to escape the dreary atmosphere of the sitting room. They had formed an unlikely alliance after all their arguing on the journey; for now they always wandering the house together, never alone, each one dreading the huge house. It was a dwarf house, built by Drór with great skill out of heavy stones and huge timbers – but it had apparently been built for a family of man and not of dwarf, its mere existence of it implying a possibilty none of the company dared to inquire about.

For five days, the company had now been staying at the strange home and longed to leave the place, even if the winter cold outside was biting and cruel; but the gloomy rooms made for men by a dwarf made them freeze despite the roaring heat of beech firewood.

Drór had given them a cold welcome in his house, and did not warm up when hearing about the nature of their quest. He agreed to take them where he claimed to know their friends and family to be - if they were still alive; but he would not help them in freeing Dwalin and the others, for he would not set one feet into Drakosterban again.

* * *

Drakosterban lay not far from Drór's home, only a day's worth of travel; yet none of the company had once heard the townspeople refer to it. Balin was not surprised to find the men had lied when they said they had not seen a dwarf in ages; he had guessed most of their wealth stemmed from trading with the wolves, who had established a colony under the mountain.

Ever since Thror and his brother Gror had led Durin's folk away from the Grey mountains after the death of their father and brother in the summer of 2589, dragons had ravaged the old mines, looking for gold and killed the few dwarfs who had stayed behind. Only a handful of dwarfs still lived in the Ered Mithrin by the time the wolves returned to the cold lands; they were two hundred dwarf warriors following a young prince called Faín, who stemmed from the Iron Hills and founded Drakosterban, now a prospering dwarf colony below the mountains.

Bringing with them tools and knowledge from the Iron Hills, they were able to mine deeper than their forefather, and accumulated great riches – but as from old, the dragons were a constant treat, attacking and ravaging the new colony. Faín waged a war on the cold dragons of the Grey Mountains, and his warriors killed many a beast; but their numbers diminished quickly, since no children were born to them, for not one dwarf woman was amongst them.

Not long, and dwarfs in the Ered Mithrin and in the Misty Mountains started to disappear; first only a few, unnoticed - strangers without families vanishing on their journeys, nobody worrying for their safe return. But soon, more dwarfs were lost – fathers, sons, friends, taken in the night, from their homes. All men living in the Ered Mithrin knew what was going on, and knew who paid the price for the new gold and iron coming out of the mountains; but nobody wished to see what the wolves would do to one who spoke up and demanded justice for people not of his kind.

* * *

Even Balín had long gone to bed, seeing how his king did not wish to rest, brooding in the dark, watching his host with uneasy eyes, waiting for an opportunity to speak to him and ease his mind from the questions tormenting him.

"Drór?"

The old dwarf looked up from the piece of wood now shaped like a woman, his pale blue eyes making the young dwarf flinch as they focused on him; it had been eighty years since he had seen eyes like these, the resemblance too striking for a coincidence.

"Drór, forgive my asking... But – are you of Durin's folk?", Thorin asked, clenching his fists nervously.

Drór looked about the room, quietly taking in the home he had built; it seemed to him as if remembering the past was a wrong thing, seeing how no good came from it.

"Yes, I once was of Durin's folk... And this is all you need to know. For I am none of his blood anymore, and never will be again. Now I am Drór again - but I have long lived as Roúen, and will be buried as Roúen, son of Erúen, son of Karón, husband of Lreen, and proud of who I am."

"Is that why you have been branded?"

Thorin regretted his words immediately, seeing the old dwarf's darken, fierce hatred flaming up in the old dwarf's eyes; he had not meant to speak his mind this blunt, and begged for the other's forgiveness, "Drór, please forgive my words, I did not mean to insult you! Please, accept my apologies and forget about my thoughtless words, for I did not-"

The old dwarf's anger fading as quickly as it had come, as the short bearded dwarf interrupted his guest, sounding tired, "I am well aware of what you and your company must be thinking, Thorín Oakenshield … But no, my love was not the reason I had been branded - though there were many who frowned upon me, just like you do now."

Thorin blushed a deep crimson, and wanted to apologize again for his indecent words and assumptions, but Drór held up his hand, stopping him before he could even opened his mouth.

"Hear me out, young king of the Erebor, hear me out and let this be your punishment, for judging what you had no right to. "

* * *

"I was born after my father's Fror's death in the Grey Mountains, and probably would have perished like my mother did - she who stayed at my father's grave, refusing to go with his brothers to better lands, mad with grief. I do not know why the men who found me had entered the ruined halls of my forefathers, but I am grateful for their trespassing – for had they not taken me from my dying mother's arms, my end would have been nigh. Since all of Durin's folk had left the Ered Mithrin but those whose hearts were dark, I was given to a man, a farmer called Erúen, who took pity on me and raised me as one of his own. I am forever grateful for his love, seeing how cold the hearts of men and dwarfs are. May he reside in golden halls and drink from diamond cups, for he even gave me his daughter's hand, letting Lreen become my wife, seeing me as a son and not a stranger!"

Thorin wondered if the wooden sculpture he was holding was a likeness of the woman; hearing how gentle Drór's voice became when talking about his late wife, he surely had loved her with all his heart. Drór's tale confused and pained the young kind, who had never heard of such abomination before, but could not condemn with his mind what his heart could accept.

"I built this house for her and the children we would be blessed with, far away from the town, so we might live in peace. Alas, we were only given one son, who was not all well... He was tall as a tree and strong as an ox, as good as gold and innocent as a lamb - but his mind would not grow like his body, and ever he was a little child. But we loved him all the more, and he brought much joy to our lives."

Thorin wished to learn what had become of the half- dwarf child, but did not dare to urge Drór to continue his tale; probably the creature had died long ago like it's mother. The dwarf flinched at the harshness of his own thoughts, but could not help imagining the boy as a monster of a dwarf and man, neither being one nor the other.

"Lreen lived for eighty years, and I wish my life was as short as hers; but she had me promise her I would not follow her before my time was done. You may never know how often I regretted my promise! I pray you may never learn the pain of dying before your love, young dwarf – no torture could ever inflict worse suffering. But the brand mark your sharp eyes spotted..."

Baring his throat, Drór presented the red scar marking him to the end of his days, "As for that one... Now and then, a daughter of man is lost, and never found alive again, you should know. Some poor woman, poor and worthless to her people.

And she is just gone suddenly, people pitying the woman - saying wild animals claimed her, wild bears or wolves eating her alive. A few days later, their families – if the poor wench had one that cared for the fate of an unruly woman – they will be given, all silent and hushed, a small bag containing gold.  
People will never talk of the gold, but they surely get it, and keep it, all hushed and quiet - as compensation for one of their own being taken by a wild bear or _wolf_, ha.

I one day went and asked Faín, prince of the Iron Hills and ruler of Drakosterban, great dwarf and might warrior, I one day asked him just what wild wolf is living under the mountain - and to this day I wonder, why I did survive that night in Drakosterban, when I was branded and whipped. So be carefully Throin Oakenshield when you meet him... For Faín does not mind putting his own to death, young king, he surely does not."

Drór stood up and put the finished stature on the shelf above the fire place, sneering at the younger dwarf who looked sick and aple.

"Well, this should satisfy your curiosity Thorin Oakenshield, now let me go to sleep - as should you, for I see the snow fall has stopped. Who know - tomorrow we might already go to see the gates of a place that knows no god nor mercy. Good night to you, curious young dwarf ... may it no be your last!"

The black-haired dwarf found he could not follow his host but just sit on his chair, unable to move, shaking slightly, his heart filled with horror at the things he had heard. For if Drór's tales were true... there were dwarfs worse than dragons living in these mountains.


	43. Second Moon of Winter 2872, Part 3

_Longest Chapter yet! Woohoo! Bring on the cookies! ;)_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

_Dearest Dís,_

_I am afraid this letter may only find you in spring, or not at all,_  
_for I do not know if I can trust Drór to tell about what became of us_  
_and send this final letter to you, least this be our last adventure._  
_He has been a good host to us, but I feel there is something odd about him,_  
_but I can not place my finger on it. Tomorrow, we shall ride from Drakosterban,_  
_the place where we may find finally Dwalin and Bofur, though Drór warns us_  
_to not get our hopes high of still finding them alive._

_Strange and dark things are happening in these lands,_  
_and I pray these stories shall never reach your ears,_  
_for they are too appaling to ever leave the Grey Mountains._  
_Thori- I mean I am very worried, and something is bothering me,_  
_which I can not even share with my company; not even Balin does know what worries me._

_I am glad when we are finally leaving this dark, over-sized home –_  
_I wonder who lived here before Drór, and if he knew the men who lived here;_  
_for it surely was a home of men before, tall and not fit for a dwarf._  
_If this letter does find you, and I am not coming home,_  
_send to our cousin Daín and tell him that his brother Fain_  
_is now lord of the Ered Mithrin and needs to be stopped._

_Though I am afraid that no army may be able to beat Fain,_  
_as long as he is hiding in the Mountains like a dragon in his cave._  
_Pray for me dear sister, and forgive me shall I not return to you._

_Give all my love to Fíli and Kíli, and tell my people to stand together if I fall –_  
_for Fain and his wolves soon might come to the Ered Luin to. Be prepared dear sister!_

_Forever loving your,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

_P.s.: Tell Rés, that Balin will tell her what he thinks about gold and love when I come back alive._

* * *

"Son, this is_ enough_.", Gífli said, taking the beer mug away from the grey-haired dwarf, scrunching up his nose at the sour smell his drunken son emitted. Eflí looked at his father with bloodshot eyes, his mouth moving, forming unintelligent sounds as he tried to get up and retrieve his mug; his clumsy movements caused him to gain a dangerous momentum, turning and stumbling over his own feet.

Grabbing his son's arm to steady him, the old dwarf hissed at the younger one, "Eflí, what is the matter with you – drinking yourself to idiocy? Moron! Fool! I am ashamed of being your father!"

The middle-aged dwarf cackled, sinking back on the bench, sneering at his father, "Shaaay, whoo taugt meee to bbooshe wheen sh-shad?"

Gífli hit his son hard in the face, noting with grim satisfaction he had draw blood; if he had learned one thing in Dunland about gardening, it was that a sick plant needed to be cut down before it rotted away.

"I never taught you to drink your feeble mind away, you UNGRATEFUL CHILD! YOU ARE A DISGRACE!"

Eflí lay half on the table, staring at his father in utter disbelief, blood running from his nose; his father had never hit him before, the shock sobering him up quickly.

The bald dwarf was talking himself in a fury, and Eflí raised his arms to protect himself, afraid his father would yet hit him again.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU! I DID RAISE NO SON OF MINE TO DRINK! How dare you blame me for your drinking! For two days you have sat here and guzzled beer – whilst your wife is all alone! Is that love? IS THAT YOUR WAY OF FULFILLING YOUR PROMISE! YOU ARE A LOUSY HUSBAND!"

Upon being treated this rough, Eflí had enough and bitterly complained, "What do you know father! Mother always stayed under the mountain, and did the housework whilst you were in the mines- you do not understand anything of my sorrow, just like you never understood her!"

Gífli scowled at his son, poking him into the chest, "Your mother was a good wife and was a good husband to her! SO WATCH YOUR TONGUE YOU-"

Eflí slapped his father's hand away, the memory of his mother's plight fueling his anger, "YOU WERE A LOUSY HUSBAND! SO DO NOT DARE TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO FATHER! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN SHE DIED! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN SHE WAS SUFFERING! Mining, mining, mining – do not tell me you were a good husband to her!"

"AT LEAST I WAS NOT DRINKING YOU BLOOD DISRESPECTFUL IMBECILE!** AND JUST HOW YOU ARE TALKING TO YOUR FATHER**!"

Eflí yelled back at his father, his loud voice causing the glasses on the shelves to shake, "**LIKE MY FATHER IS TALKING TO ME**!"

They looked daggers at each other, as similar in posture and mind as one egg to the other. But Eflí was also his mother's child, and not as painful stubborn as his father, therefore being the first to give in, his anger replaced by sadness and self-pity.

"Father, forgive me... But you do not understand my suffering – by Mahal, I find myself wishing I had gone with Thorin, so I would not have to waste away under the mountains!"

Gífli huffed, crossing his arms as he sat down, far enough from his son to resist the urge to hit him again for his foolish talk.

"What are you talking about, are you _mad_? Wishing to kill yourself - what for!? You've got **everything** a dwarf could long for! Lovely children, a beautiful wife, safety, enough food and drink-"

Eflí continued the list, sounding almost hateful, "- no friends, a wife that does not find time to talk to me anymore, and despises me for not knowing how to write properly, my hands used to the pickaxe, not the the pen, children who would rather have their uncle be their father, and hundreds of dwarfs who frown upon me, thinking a peasant unfit as a husband to their queen, hoping I shall find my death in the mines soon."

Gífli frowned at his son, mostly thinking he was exaggerating, "Son, you are being a fidgety little boy AND a darn moron if you listen to what the dwarfs of the Ered Luin say – and if you think your Dís is not loving you, you are truly a**_ bloody idiot_ **unworthy of this jewel."

Eflí laughed out loud, but there was no humor in it; Surely, to his father, nothing seemed to be a problem, as long as one could run away from it and slave away in the mines, trusting stone and time to make sorrows and wounded hearts forgotten.

"Father, Dís' love for me is _gone. _To her, I am useless and unfit to stay by her side... I am just a miner, and what was good enough before, is not good enough anymore. Where it not for our sons, she long would have parted with me!"

Picking his nose, bored by his son's plight, the bald dwarf listened to the younger dwarf, wondering if he should beat him up a bit, so that he would see just how much his wife cared for him when she tended his wounds; Gífli could not believe Dís to not love his son anymore, was rather thinking her fed up with Efli whining, just like he was after a few minutes.

"Son, I do understand why Dís might want to part with you – you are a sad and sorry mockery of a dwarf! So what if you are a miner, you moron? You do your work, and show her what you do – bring her iron, bring her gold, dig the mountain to prove your love! Any dwarf woman loves honest, hard work! But not one loves a whining, old baby sitting on his arse and drinking beer!"

"_I am not_- ah, I should know you'd never understand father.. What was I thinking! For you to once understand!", Eflí cried in frustation, storming out of the dining cavern and slamming the huge doors shut with a bang.

Gífli shook his head at his son's adolescent behavior, his mind set to follow through his plan without deviation; if it took a disaster to safe his son's marriage, he see his stubborn son got one!

* * *

"One and seven is?", Ori repeated patiently, waiting for one of his students to come up with the answer; for he had set his mind on not leaving the royal chambers tonight before the king's nephews had mastered the art of summarization. But he propbably should have brought his sleeping gown with him, as the two dwarf boys were making little progress - the red-head could not tell whether this was for their indolence or lack of talent for numbers.

"So, again, one and seven _is_? I give you a hint – it's one less than nine! Kíli? Why don't you try?"

Kíli looked up from his slate, and after biting his lip for a while, answered slowly, "Uh- Eight?"

Ori beamed at him, clapping his hands at the small success his student had brought forth, "Bravo! Well done! You are making good progress – and how much is ten and eight? Fíli? How about you?"

The expression of utter boredom on Fíli's face was lost on Ori, who was not one to take much notice in anything but the most extreme facial expression.  
"I don't know, and I don't care... Maybe elven, or eighteen, or hundred-five? Who knows!"

Kíli chuckled, and cleaned his slate to make new drawing, not satisfied with the first one; he wanted to draw a dramatic picture of the huge steel press that had broken free from its mounting and almost crushed him and Fíli. Seeing how he got all the sweets he wished for, and had his mother come to see and dot over him and his brother everyday, Kíli did not mind his broken leg as much; it was like a nice, happy holiday to him. But his elder brother apparently could not stand to lie still and wait for his head and foot to heal, his mood becoming fouler every day.

Ori looked disappointed, but tried to not scold the blond boy for his ignorance, his voice gentle as he urged him to try again, "Oh Fíli, I know you can to this –_ ten and eight is_?"

"Twelve.", Fíli stubbornly repeated, squinting his eyes as his head started to hurt again.

"No, but we are getting closer – twelve, that would be ten and two, haha. But eight and ten _is_?"

"I do not care!", the sick boy cried, pressing his hands against his temples to make the pain stop.

"Eight and ten?", the redhead insisted, looking down at his book and not realizing his student was suffering.

"_Eighteen_ I guess... I think they have learned enough for today young Ori. Thank you very much for your patience - you are free to go now.", Dís quietly answered the teacher's question, causing Ori to turn as red as his hair, mumbling apologies as he gathered his books, stumbling for the door.

"Your highness, forgive me, I shall leave immediately, forgive me, your highness!"

Dís smiled, amused at the boy's awkwardness; Rés son was so unlike his mother, who would never blush nor be embarrassed for her wrong doings, thinking she never could do any wrong.

But her smile faltered as she saw the poor state her eldest son was in; pale and shaking, Fíli lay on his side of the bed, crying as the pain worsened, the few light in the bedroom hurting his eyes.

"Kíli, please blow out your candle please – _there there_ my little gold nugget! All is fine, all is fine... I am sorry for sending Ori to teach you when you were not well yet... _Sh_, it soon will be better, just close your eyes..."

Gently rubbing ointment onto her son's temples, Dís wished she could just stay with him for the night, holding him as he slept to keep the pain away; but soon the council would be meeting in the grand hall, requiring her presence, as much as it pained her to leave her children's bedside.

Kíli had dragged himself over to his brother's side, taking his hand, humming happily when his mother's hand came to rest on his head; her hands were softer than they used to be, but their firm, gentle touch was just the same.

As the pain faded away, Fíli lay still, afraid his mother would leave when finding him well again; he knew she why found so little time to look after them, but tonight, he did not want to go to sleep all alone, wishing to be his mother's little pyrite once more, hoping she would stay if he was only sick enough.

Kíli yawned, and snuggling against his mother's hand asked, "Mother? Will you sing us a song? Like you used to?"

Dís smiled sadly in the dark, bending down to kiss her sons and pull up the blankets to cover them as she lay next to them.

"Surely my lovely ruby – what song would you like to hear?"

The little dwarf was quick to tell his wish, demanding, "A song of Dunland!", and Fíli almost gave himself away in excitement, hoping to convince his mother, longing to hear the old song.

Dís hesistated for a moment; but hearing how this was her son's dearest wish, she caressed her sons, tears welling up in her eyes as she sung about a home she would not ever see again, where many things had been so much worse - but many things also so much better.


	44. Second Moon of Winter 2872, Part 4

_Next chapter tomorrow; smaller chapters, but more and maybe regular again. Thanks for keeping up with me! :)  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Winter 2872 ~  
**_

Angry, Dwalin pushed the cup at the sick dwarf's hands, trying to force it onto him.

"Here! Take it!"

"You -cough- need food - more -cough- than - cough-"

"_Take it_ I say! You have to eat some! Or I shall feed you!"

Bofur chuckled at the dire threat, suppressing a cough as he gave in and accepted the cup the other dwarf handed him carefully, taking a small sip, his hands shaking.

"You -_cough_- sound … like Bombur! He too … always -_cough_- thinks I … eat to -_cough_- little, hehe..."

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the dwarf lying on the ground in front of him, dimly recalling the fat little boy who used to come running after them; even back then he thought it no small wonder Bofur's brother could be so quick on his short, round feet - and how it came the slender Bofur had a brother five times his girth.

"Stop comparing me to your brother, and drink your broth whilst it is hot, you stubborn fool - I don't feel much like carrying a sack of bones out off here once spring comes!"

"You _-cough_- think... we_ -cough_- will leave ... alive? Ha-...ha_-cough_!"

The brown-haired dwarf started to laugh, but fell into a fit of coughing instead, his pale facing turning red with exertion. Taking the cup away from him, Dwalin helped his companion to sit up, holding him and rubbing his back to ease his pain, browbeating any dwarf who least he would dare to open his mouth to complain.

The night shift would start in three hours, most workers falling asleep before they lay down to not waste a moment's time; disturbances were not welcome, and Dwalin knew his friend would not be alive still, where he not by his side constantly.

"Dirty scumbags... rot in hell...", the black-haired dwarf muttered as he help Bofur to lie down when the coughing finally subsided, pulling his torn coat up to cover them both as he rested next to him. Their prison was cold and wet, and Dwalin was grateful for even the little warmth his friend provided, praying he would be well in the morning. For if Bofur's sickness got any worse, not even his friend's huge fists could keep the guards from taking him away, to throw his dying body into the smelting furnace, not caring if there was still life in him or not, like they had done with so many before.

Worried, Dwalin pulled his friend into his arms and held him protectively as he slept, whispering into his ear, "Live, little friend, live... Do not let them break you, you hear me? I can't do this alone... So do not leave me..."

* * *

Thorin could not keep his teeth from chattering as he waded through the snow, stopping when he felt a sharp pull on the rope round tied to his waist. Looking behind, his eyelashes and hair frozen white, he saw Dori had stumbled, tearing down Bifur and Nori with him, apologizig weakly as he tried to get to his feet, slipping again and again on the fresh snow.

"Drór! STOP!", the king yelled into the snow storm, hoping the dwarf way ahead of him would hear his words and stop, before the rope cut into Thorin's flesh again.

Balin helped Dori up, brushing the snow from the youngster's frostbitten face, rather kind gesture than truly helpful, as the white-haired dwarf's mittens were cover with snow too. One hour ago, Drór said they were not far from the Drakosterban, and urged them to carry on without a break, before the storm broke lose; now the company deeply regretted not following the old dwarf's advice, fighting their way forward through the storm.

"DRÓR!", Thorin howled against the snow, grabbing the rope with both hands to take the strain from it.

"DRÒR! GODDAMNIT! STOP!"

But the rope would not go lose, dragging the dwarf king forward into the white wall of snow, the hollows his feet left covered up by the time his company step on them.

Nori sneezed, his nose blue with cold, almost bumping into Gloin as tried to pull his scarf up to his eyes, annoyed to have to stop again.

"What is it this time! Dori, can't you – watch … your... step..."

The company gaped at the sight ahead of them, not quite believing their eyes, staring at a fifty feet tall and thirty feet wide dwarf face, it's sneering mouth baring hundreds of pointed teeth of steel, guarding the tunnel leading straight down into the mountains.

"So... this is … Drakosterban?", Balin stammered, suprised to find he could still freeze with fear even in the winter cold, if only his terror was big enough.

Drór smiled humorlessly, untying the rope from his waist, letting it fall to the ground.

"Yes, this is it. Welcome to Drakosterban, you poor, stupid dwarfs – you have arrived at the end of the road to ruin! May your deaths be quick and mercifully – not that I do have any hope your suffering shall ever end if you step in there."

The old dwarf turned around, and after a few deeps was gone from sight, leaving the company on their own, with only the snow and wind howling through the gruesome entrance of Drakosterban to guide their further way - to stay in the murderous cold, or to head down into the darkeness, where worse things might await them?


	45. First Moon of Spring 2873

_Next chapter due sunday; jumping fast forward once again! ^^  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

"Happy birthday to you my dear Dís! May you live long and see happy years to come!", the red-haired dwarf woman cried, cheerfully goiing about the dark room and lighting up the the candles, then beginning to prepare Dís clothes for the day. Yawning and sleep-tousled, the dwarf princess got out of bed, feeling more tired than the evening before, after laying awake most of the night after another vision; for a moment Dís considered to just go back to sleep and tell her gentlewoman she was sick and needed rest, but she probably would find no chance to sleep either if she stayed in her bed, as Rés went bustling about.

"Rise and shiiiiine – the first congratulants are already waiting outside, so hurry and don't keep them waiting! h, and I brought you some breakfast, since you will not find much time to eat! Haha! Today will be such a busy say! All of the ministers are coming - say, for a woman just 113 years old, you surely do impress the council!"

"Hu? What are you implying?", Dís questioned as she went about to wash her face, frowning at the dark circles under her eyes and the deepening wrinkles on her forehead.

"You know _very_ well what I mean Dís! Don't tell me you have _not_ heard the rumors about the council thinking about offering you constant regality?"

The blond dwarf woman looked at her friend shocked, the dark vision of the night still fresh on her mind, her voice hysteric.

"Rés? What are you talking about?! This is not funny!"

The red-head was surprised by the princess sudden outburst, carefully putting down the golden dress she had chosen for Dís to wear onto the bed, approaching the starteled dwarf woman slowly.

"Dís, it is just a rumor - why do not get upset! Anyway,wouldn't that be fun? Not? Say, just what is the matter with you?"

But the other dwarf woman just quickly turned away, hiding her face in the soft towel smelling sweet of roses, trying to calm herself, shooing away the images of her bother dead; it had just been a bad dream, not even a true vision! Surely, she had not seen the future this time, but only her own fears!

"Dís? Are you alright?"

Rés softly rested her hand on Dís shoulder, sounding genuinely worried for once. Dís turned and smiled at her, her hand resting on her friend's for a moment as if to reassure her, "I am alright, forgive my anger – I guess I just have not slept very well. And you know, getting old-"

"- does not come easy to bread and dwarf woman.", Rés finished the saying, laughing as she picked up the brush and started to comb Dís' long hair. Humming to herself, she served breakfast to her friend, who seemed a lot paler than usual, making Rés wondered why Dís was so horrified by the idea of becoming the regular queen of the Ered Luin, for she excelled at her task, and usually seemed very content - but not today.

After listlessly finishing a crumpet, Dís let her gentlewoman help her into the llong, golden dress, reserved for banquets and feasts, feeling uneasy in the beautiful, heavy brocade. When Rés opened the treasure box, Dís begged her friend, "Please – no jewelery. Not today.", feeling the weight of the expensive fabric already dragging her down.

Holding her head high, her face friendly but her smile distant as the representative queen stepped out of her chambers, nodding politely at the cheering servants and minister's awaiting her, now and then glancing down at her feet, surprised to not find them bound in shackles, each step heavier than the one before as she headed for the main hall to perform her duties.

* * *

_Agony!_

_Agony! _

_So much Agony!_

The dwarf tried to open his eyes, fighting against the darkness and the deafening noise thundering in his ears, not realizing it was his own light hurt his eyes, his vision blurred and red as he looked at his surroundings. As he tried to lift his arm to clear his eyes, he found his arms bound, thick leather straps and chains immobilizing him-

The dark-haired dwarf panicked, bucking against the straps, screaming at the pain shooting through his right arm, struggling even harder when he heard steps approach, the grinding noise he had heard before having stopped- was he back? Did they capture him? Again?

Two huge hands pressed the screaming dwarf against the wooden board, a deep voice muttering soothing words with a strange intonation, repeating them over and over, "Cal-m, cal-m... Not – bad. Not mo-re... Cal-m, cal-m... Not – bad, not mo-re."

Thorin stopped his struggles, his vision clearing as the pain subsided to a dull, pounding sensation again, staring up to meet two impossible pale blue eyes looking down at him, a friendly smile on the broad, peasant face of the giant man holding him.

"Well, I'd rather have you stay unconscious, stubborn little king... For this will hurt._ A lot_."

Slowly, the wounded dwarf turned his head, whincing at the wound on the back of his head scraping against wood. At first he did not recognizing the dwarf coming at him, his mind clouded from many days without sleep and wounds untended; but then the sharp blade the other carried caught his eye, causing Thorin to struggle against the bonds desperately, realizing what the other intended to do.

"Lureen, hold him! Yes, like that, good boy... _And you hold still_! You are bleeding to death as it is!"

Roughly shoving a piece of leather into Thorin's mouth, Drór muffled the screams of horror filling the room, pausing shortly after tightening the straps further, grabbing the terrified dwarf's chin and forcing him to focus on him.

"Fool, you will _NOT_ lose your arm – but only, if you stop writhing. You hear me? … The pain will be worse than death, but you will keep your arm... And now, lie _still_, so I can begin."

The young dwarf stared into the elder one's eyes for what seemed an eternity to him, before finally closing his eyes, choosing to trust the other's skill, and bracing himself, as he felt the cold metal on his feverish skin. He howled as a red-hot pain flashed through his body when his torn flesh was cut open, the sharp blade finding a way down to the bone, baring the broken fragments.

"Cal-m, cal-m, cal-m, cal-m... cal-m, cal-m, cal-m...", the huge man tried to soothe the dwarf, pining him down like a rock a sapling, his words following the king of Durin's folk down into the darkness as he lost consciousness again, wishing to not wake again.


	46. First Moon of Spring 2873 Part 2

_Short short short, too late to! Ah! But next chapter in 16 hours ;)  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

"Show me your hands!"

"It's nothing-", the other dwarf tried to evade, hiding his hands behind his back quickly; but his brother had already grabbed his arms, pulling the battered hands into the lantern's light, angered by the elder's attempted deceit.

"Balin! Show me your goddamn- by Mahal! _What did they do to you_!", Dwalin cried livid, outraged by the sight of his brother's swollen, bruised hands, burn marks covering the back of Balin's left hand.

"It is … well, not as bad as it seems. Just let me put on some ointment and they will be good as new, see? They did not do as much damage as it may look like – please, Dwalin, calm yourself, your anger is of no use!_ Not today_."

Frustrated, Dwalin let go of his brother's hands, swearing blasphemously as he went over to Gloin, who was keeping the remnant ointment safe for the day. The rules of the ore mines were simple; what you did not keep by your side was not yours, and what you were not willing to defend, you should not have gotten a hold on in the first place.

"Hand me the ointment."

"It is almost gone-", Gloin protested, defiant in the face of a bigger dwarf even after being beaten up by him two times, protecting the little jar which probably was the last he'd ever see of his brother Oin.

"Hand. me. The. Fucked. Ointment. _NOW_.", the black-haired dwarf growled at the younger dwarf, ready to hand out a solid beating if he was not give the jar immediately. Gloin had come to deeply resent Dwalin and Bofur, blaming them for the loss of his brother and of his king, and of his own misery, insulting them and refusing to be of any help unless dire circumstances forced him to.

"Just give it to him Gloin – or do you think you stand a chance against the wolves all by yourself, stupid hot-head?", Nori jibed as he sorted through the things he had stolen over the day. Grumbling, the red-haired dwarf handed the jar to Dwalin, shooting daggers at Nori, who had become their leader in no time, being an authority on life amongst scoundrels and cutthroats, trading and stealing to ensure their survival whilst they plotted their escape.

Dori was squatting in the darkest corner of their cavern, ashamed of his elder brother as he was of his own cowardice, day after day grieving for the young king whom he had not been able to save.

If only they had never come to this place! Drakosterban, as it was proudly called, "'Dragon's death" - a city built deep into the mountains to withstand all attacks, and protect its inhabitants forever more.

But yet, it had not become the graveside of one scaled beast, dwarfs and other creatures filling its tombs quickly instead. Dori wiped the tears from his face, resolved to be brave and take revenge for his king, after they had found and buried him properly, for soon it would be his turn to head out to look for the dead body of Thorin Oakenshield. Together with Dwalin and Balin, he would wander the mines and search the tombs until his shift started - if Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had not found their king yet.

Kissing the ring Thorin had lost when the guards took him away, Dori mumbled a short prayer, begging for the strength to carry on just a bit longer, "May you rest in peace until Mahal awakens you, and be the first to answer his call! Forgive me, your highness... Let me serve you one last time, so the mountains be with me!"

* * *

"Food - goo-d foo-d!", the man encouraged the dwarf, who had turned his head away, facing the wall, refusing to open his mouth to be fed, hissing annoyed.

"Foo-d? Hung-ry?", Lureen continued, sounding disappointed when Thorin did not react to his coaxing. The half-man could not understand why the dwarf did not wish to eat, as he had even sweetened he oatmeal with honey, despite his father forbidding him to do so.

"Foo-d, Thor-n – Foo-d!"

"Leave me alone.", Thorin croaked, turning further away from the man, suppressing a painful moan as he came to lie on his belly. He tried to protest as he felt Lureen's hand grab his shoulders, to return him to his former position, taking away the strain from his wounded arm and side.

The man was infinite patient with the ungrateful, sick dwarf, his lack of understanding complexities sparing him from the realization of the cause for the mountain king's animosity. Taking up the bowl and spoon again, the huge man smiled broadly at Thorin, offering him the rejected oatmeal once more, cooing softly, "Foo-d?"

Seeing how he would not win this fight against the untiring, slow-witted half-dwarf, the dark haired dwarf admitted defeat and finally allowed Lureen to fed him, praying he would leave him his side when he was finished, for he could not stand the sight of him anymore.

But Lureen just wiped his face when he was done, and made himself comfortable in a chair, watching the sick dwarf, his huge, dumb face beaming with content happiness.

Thorin closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, impatient for his wounds to heal so he could set out, to see to the only dwarf willing to end the madness in the Ered Mithrin, to save the friends he had to leave behind before it was too late.

.


	47. First Moon of Spring 2873 Part 3

_Sorry, so little action, much talking :(! Next chapterdue tuesday, should feature the company and some Fíli & Kíli action hopefully!  
Aaaah! So little time to write! Life stop messing round!  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

Begging for a favor had never come easy to heir of the Erebor, not matter how often he had been forced to humble himself in his lifetime; the words tasted like poison as he spat them out, his reluctance plain visible on his face, "_Please_, Drór... Will you - write this letter for me. I shall pay you-"

The grey-haired dwarf put the younger one off, only his eyes betraying his smug content at seeing Thorin squirm, his face otherwise as emotionless as ever.

"You do not need to pay me, Thorin Oakenshield. Not having to watch you struggle and ruin my work shall be enough payment to me."

Grumbling, Thorin let Drór take the parchment and paper away from him and cut off the ruined upper part, which was smeared with illegible letters written left-handed by the sick dwarf.

"So do tell me, what shall I write?"

Resigning himself to his fate, Thorin Oakenshield started to dictate the letter to his sister, closing his eyes to focus on the message he intended to send to her.

"_Dear Dís_, _comma_-"

Drór interrupted him annoyed as he dipped the quill into the ink well, "This is not the first time I am writing a letter - just tell me what needs to be told!"

"Good. Uh, where were we- dear Dís, _I hope you are doing well, and your family has had no hard time this winter. Soon spring will come_-"

"Do you have to be this ornate? Parchment is expensive!"

"Do not interrupt me! … Ah, forgive me... I mean,well then – So,_ dear Dís, I hope you are doing well. Since my sword arm is broken, Drór kindly offered to write this letter to you. Bad times have befallen us, and if this letter reaches you, immediately prepare for war! Fain, brother of Dain, has set his eyes onto the Ered Luin, and plans to invade the mountain once his army is ready. In his madness, he has created am army of hide_-"

Thorin bit his tongue, his mind racing to find a way to convert the insult he had meant to use into anything else; but the longer he remained silent, the more suspicious Drór became, question the black-haired dwarf warily, "What is it? Why are you stopping?"

"Uh- nothing- erh, as I was saying –_he has created an army_. That's all. Nothing else."

Lureen was sleeping peacefully on a cot on the far side of the room, not minding Thorin claiming his bed whilst he recovered from his injuries, the man meanwhile resting curled up on a narrow mattress. The half-dwarf adored his father's guest, wishing to serve him in any way, unbeknownst of Thorin's disgust for his kind, which he had almost voiced.

"Are you finished?", Drór interrupted the king's thoughts, rather displeased with the task, as it seemed to take ages to finish one short note, urging Thorin to continue.

"Forgive me Drór – uh, write, _Balin and the others have been taken captive by Fain just after we found Dwalin and Bofur. As much as it pains me, I am unable to return and free them right now, after escaping from the murderous city of Drakosterban. But I shall set forth to alarm Dain, once I have healed, and hope he will listen to me and ready his army, to drive his brother out of the mountains and free the countless dwarfs working for him in the mines. If we shall not meet each other again, find solace in knowing your brother died like a warrior, defending his_-"

"Are you finished _now_? Are we done?", Drór interrupted Thorin's eulogy to himself, laying down the parchment in front of the sick dwarf so he could sign it with it with his good hand. Annoyed at being interrupted yet again, the king scribbled his signature on the parchment, scowling as he thanked the elder dwarf for his service,

"Thanks Drór, you were of GREAT service to me... Thanks!"

Drór took the parchment with him, briefly wishing the sick dwarf good night, pulling up the blankets over his son and stroking his hair, before going back to main house, taking the hidden passage which connected his son's hideout with the farm house.

Slowly ascending the steps to the surface, Drór held the parchment to his torch, letting it burn to ashes before dropping it to the ground, trampling on the last remnants until they were gone.

He cursed the stupid young king, thinking him naïve and careless for thinking a letter to his folk might leave the Grey Mountains unnoticed. Fain probably considered the young king dead, for all the wounds inflicted to him; though even if he knew about Thorin being alive, he would not have worried at all, holding his friends captive, and knowing that entering or leaving the Ered Mithrin was impossible as long as the snow covered the grounds.

When he had found the half-dead dwarf in the woods, Drór had considered leaving him there in the snow to die, for nothing good would come from taking the young king in; but Drór found he could not let one of his own kin die if he carried the same blood in his veins, his eyes so much like his son's.

From what Thorin had told him, and of what he had spoken in his fever dreams, Drór had learned much about Faín's schemes and plans; what a fool the young king was, to know all of this and still believe the lord of Drakosterban could be stopped! In his hatred for the impure half-breds, Thorin did not see their tremendous strength and undying loyalty, unaware of the danger growing below the mountains.

Half-men, half-dwarfs, wielding their axes for their one and only lord to their last breath, growing up quicker than weeds in the summer heat, Faín's breed of warriors reached their prime after twenty years, their numbers multiplying every decade.

What now where merely a handful of warriors, barely tall enough to carry a shield, would in five years become the most fearful army of middle earth. Born of dwarf and man, strong as their fathers and enduring, long lived and tall as the ancient father's of mankind, they would be hiding in the impenetrable city of Drakosterben until their time had come to serve their lord Faín, razing the fortresses of men and dwarfs and elves.

"Fool... I should have mercy on you, and smother you in your sleep, lest you live and see your people perish, Thorin Oakenshield...", Drór mumbled to himself, pushing the book shelf aside to step into the cold drawing room, dark thoughts on his mind as went about to light the fire.


	48. Second Moon of Spring 2873

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

_Thear unkle Thorin,_

_We hobe you are toing well. Kíli and I are writig you dhis letter togeteher, so to nod mint dhe bat witig, Kíli can'd wride at all(crossedout) (inkstain)(inkstain)(inkstain)(inkstain)(inkstain)Dads nod true! Fílli is lyin(crossedout)(inkstain) (inkstain)We hobe you are toing rigt, tear uncle, and wil veri son__ (inkstain)_ be coming pack. Here_ (inkstain)_Here_ (inkstain)_her_(crossedout) (inkstain)_ id is so poring widouth you! We to miss _ (inkstain)_you_ (inkstain)_! A lod! Modher(crossedout) misses you doo, she is crinn vary much. Fader is sat doo, ant scares us(crossedout). Please comm pack soon! We misss yo(inkstain)very very muc! Please hurri and come_ (inkstain)_ pack(waterstain)

_Yor Fíli__ (inkstain)_ and Kíli

* * *

"If you'd put half as much effort into getting us weapons as you put in making distilleries, we'd be on our way for weeks!", Bofur joked, watching the other dwarf tinker with tubes and pieces of brass, fascinated by Nori's workmanship.

"You'd make a great toymaker – ever considered picking up the trade?"

Nori choose to ignore Bofur, too focused on improving the distillery which might become their greatest asset yet. Faín had set up a strike rule against alcohol amongst his warriors, considering it harmful to his armies strength; but the dwarf who did not like to have a good spirit now and then had yet to be born, and the guards had become downright friendly with Nori, when he started showed up at the gates, offering moonshine.

Bifur and Bombur where fast asleep, the cousins holding each other in sleep to keep warm; the little fire wood and coal they could get their hands on was now needed to power the distillery, leaving the small cave cold and dark at most times.

"Say, where did you learn to make such things? Are there many breweries in the Blue Mountains?"

"No."

Nori's constant impolite manner was eventually even to much for the persistent Bofur, who choose to rather take a stroll and see if he could find something valuable in the tunnels, than keep the hungry, humourless dwarf company. The short-bearded dwarf was saving most of his food to brew moonshine, and had become frighteningly thin; but if the company gave him some of their food, he would not eat it, but also use it to feed the destillery, which irked them so much they stopped sharing what little they had with him.

Dwalin, Balin, Gloin and Dori were currently deep down in the mines, working their shift till sunset, to earn the day's food and water for the company, and the right to lent the tools they needed to work in the mines for the next day. Lord Faín believed it was best to let the miners do as they please and work only if they felt like it, rather than beat them to it; but those who did not work, surely did not need to eat and drink either, and were not given even one sip of water at the grate gates blocking the tunnels, even if they were sick and dying.

The water in the mines was unclean and salty, and many a thirsty dwarfs had fallen sick and died within days after drinking the water running through the stone; one had no choice but pick up the axe and the hammer, praying to earn enough to make it through another day.

Wandering down the tunnel, careful to not be ambushed, Bofur got more hopeless with every step he took, seeing there was not even one piece of rock to be found; the tunnels were as clean as bones, countless dwarfs having looked for anything to scavenge, even taking bodies with them.

Bofur spat out, cursing the rotten dwarfs who had taken the body of the brave dwarf who had come to rescue him, and found his death in return. HE had only heard legends about Thorin Oakenshield, but never got to know him, but he thought him the most formidable dwarf who ever lived, and would have loved to serve him, gladly giving his life in turn - if fate had given him a chance. To walk into Drakosterban, and reclaim his friends' life, facing Lord Faín without fear, without doubt! Balin and the others had told their tale crying, sitting hopeless in the dungeon after being stripped of their silver and gold, their weapons and hopes, almost mad with grief for the loss of their king, who had been beaten to death in front of their eyes by Fain, his dead body being dragged into the mines by scoffing warriors who insulted his name, spitting on his corpse before leaving him to the vultures of the tunnels, who knew no shame nor honor. Not one single hair of him they had found, and whilst Balin and Dori stilled had hope, Bofur and Dwalin knew better – but telling their friends why they would never find a piece of Thorin Oakenshield's body would shatter their souls.

"Maybe, it were better if we just died... No, that's nonsense!", Bofur mumbled, forbidding himself to think about their impending death. They had to make it out of here alive, and take revenge on Fain and free the mountain – or at least die in an honorable way, like the last king of Durin's folk had, brave and proud fighting to his last breath.

* * *

"_When I am coming home again, _

_Do I find you waiting for me?_

_Or have you long forgotten, What I long did said to thee?_

_My promise I did swear to keep,_

_So tell, is love in your heart deep? _

_I__s love in your heart still deep?_"

The dwarf's song echoed through the mines, causing Gloin to pause and wipe the sweat of his brow, wondering where his companion had learned the old love song of the Ered Luin. He had not thought a dwarf from the Erebor would care enough to remember any song not about gold, or could phantom the abyss of bittersweet longing it was about. The red-head found himself humming to the tune, thinking of his beloved Kimli, saddened by the thought to not ever see her again. Gloin raised his head, surprised to hear another dwarf answer, whose voice was more melodious than he ever would have given the brute credit for - why, he had not even thought the huge moron could posibly grasp the more subtle understanding of love!

"_Say, do your eyes still gleam like gold  
_

_When their man they do behold?_

_I'll be a fine husband for you my love, _

_A crown of silver I shall forge,_

To wear on our wedding day!

_But only if you waited for me,_

until that final day! U_ntil that final day_

"

Gloin sighed, his heart moved deeply by the song Balin and Dwalin sang whilst swinging their axes, working hard as they mined for iron ore.  
The red-bearded dwarf found it hard to keep up his resentment for the dark-haired dwarf, who had proven his worth and honor numerous times in his presence, redeming himself; but alas, Gloin found it hard to admit he was wrong,let alone beg Dwalin for forgiveness.

As he swung his pickaxe at the stone, the red-haired dwarf quietly sang along with the brothers, wishing he were brave enough to raise his voice above the noise of their hammering, to joining into their song, apologizing for all that had been said before.


	49. Second Moon of Spring 2873, Part 2

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

Panting, the sick dwarf paused, his knees shaking with fatigue; he had not taken more than three steps yet, but he felt like he had ran for hours - no, for days!

_"Friends? Haha, no, little king of the lost mountain, you surely would not call a criminal, a murderer a friend! Unless... You are one yourself?"_

Grinding his teeth, the dark-haired dwarf willed himself to continue his way, his good hand pressed against the rough stone wall to steady him as he stumbled forward.

"_Releasing your 'friends'? How amusing! I do not know, what understanding of law and order you have in your kingdom my dear –surely, I can not let a _criminal_ wander free! Just think of what they might do! __I promise you, not one good dwarf has ever been send there! Just prisioners of war, or criminals - do you not agree it is best, to isolate such dangerous subjects, and let them do useful work to redeem themselves? _"

Anger helped to control the pain which shoot through his right side when he lost balance, straining torn muscles and almost toppling over.

"_You 'demand' I let them go? Oh, you and your might army are intimidatingly, I shall comply your command, seeing how powerful you are, young King Thorin, ruler over dead mountains and lost people, hahaha!"_

His sword arm was still broken, and useless resting in a sling; the dark-haired dwarf wonder if he ever would be able to wield a hammer like he used to, his right hand pathetically thin and pale, too weak to hold even a spoon.

_"Well, why do you not go down in the mines then, and look for them? Why do you not dare and look for your 'friends' amongst the ones of their kind – rapists, monsters, backstabbers? Say my warriors – SHALL WE SEND HIM TO THE MINES!?"_

He sneered as he reached reached the corner opposite of his bed, frustrated at the little progress he was making, seeing how it took all of his strength to just keep upright, his wasting muscles protesting any further movement.

_"HE CUT ME! HE DARED TO CUT ME! GUARDS! KILL HIM!" _

He felt a sticky warmth run down his back, and wondered if he had torn the lacerations open again, where Fain had drawn blood with his whip, the humiliation of being stripped and held down still hurting worse than the slashes.

_"WAIT! No... Ha, there still is some life in you, I see – and I bet you can still hear me too, can you not? No, this would be merciful, he, letting you die in battle! No - take his sword! Take his silver! His clothes! Throw him into the deepest dungeon! Let his 'friends' take care of him!"_

The pain grew worse as he headed for the bed, cold sweat running down his body; he dared not to rest though, ashamed at the thought of being found the floor, shivering and in pain, having lost another battle.

"_Too bad you are such a stubborn fool Thorin Oakenshield – you could have spared yourself all of this, and your followers too! Ah, you could have become one of my warriors, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and have your share in the grand world I am creating. For I will restore the race of dwarfs its former glory, and return us to our rightful place! LONG LIVE THE DWARFS OF THE ERED MITHRIN!"_

The palm of his left hand was grazed and bloody by the time the dark-haired dwarf sank onto the bed again, unable to bite back a whimper as his maltreated body was finally put to rest.

Listening to the sound of his own painful, labored breathing, Thorin lay still, closing his eyes to fight a fit of nausea, the wound on the back of his head throbbing. Three weeks had passed already since he had crawled out of Drakosterban, twenty-one long, dark days since he had last seen his friends. Balin, Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bomfur, Nori, Dori – were they still alive? Or had Faín killed them too?

Even if he had been healed and well, he knew he alone would not stand a chance against the wolves, and just thinking about going back was sheer madness; his only chance was to ride for the Iron Hills, and alarm his cousin Dain, begging him to help him invade the mountains with his mighty army. A lot of dwarf had chosen to go there, after the Erebor was lost, and if anybody had the means of stopping the insane lord of Drakosterban, it was him; but it would be two months until the pass would be open again, and only to the most daring and desperate riders would try to go before the thaw was over.

Exhausted, the sick dwarf fell asleep soon, his body demanding peace and quiet to heal, even when his unresting mind was calling to battle again.

* * *

"_Please_."

Her lips formed the word silently, her huge brown eyes filled with tears; the dwarf could not look at her, feeling tears coming to his own eyes. His heart broke, but feeling the little bundle move in his arms, he found he could not fulfill the woman's wish, his heart torn apart between one sorrow and the other.

"Forgive me, forgive me – I – I can't not! Do not ask this!"

The guards had been watching them with suspicious eyes for a while now, and the tallest yelled at the grey-haired dwarf, demanding for him to follow them.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOUR BUSINESS IS FINISHED HERE! COME!"

His eyes begging for forgiveness, Oin obeyed, his steps wavering when the woman stared to wail, reaching for his legs, in vain trying to stop the dwarf from leaving with her daughter, the chains rattling as she fought them madly.

His head hanging low, tears running down his cheeks, Oin was guarded to the fostress' chambers, one guard marching at each side, two at the back and front. The newborn mewled softly, her tiny face all red and wrinkled, the blond hair and faint sideburns still wet. Oin wished he had the heart to free her, now, when he still could save her. All he needed to do was to smash the little body onto the floor, crack the fragile skull, freeing the poor little creature from all the misery that awaited it in this world.

But feeling the child's warmth, its heavy, little body resting secure in his arms, Oin could not bring himself to do what he had to; he, who had always been a healer, somebody who brought forth life, found he could not simply take it, not in its most innocent form, even if his mind harshly ordered him so.

The guarded banged against the heavy gates barring the chambers of the wet nurses, drily explaining to dwarf opening the gates, "Another one."

Oin looked down at the sleeping newborn he was about to give away, her fate already sealed; his sight was blinded by tears as he whispering apologies to her he for bringing her into this world alive.

"My, you are such a lovely sight to see... But had you only been a boy, my poor lass, had you only been a boy...Oh Mahal, have mercy... Let her die! Let her not share her mother's fate!"

But the god was not listening to his prayers tonight, as the half-dwarf was taken from his shaking hands, her caretaker not even asking for the girl's name; from this moment on, all she would be was a future bearer of warriors, and to the day she would die, she would not know her mother's name, nor that she ever had been loved.


	50. Second Moon of Spring 2873, Part 3

_WOW! Chapter 50... O.o And I wanted to be finished by now, one chapter for each year?! Ohmy, ohmy! xD  
Next chapter will hopefully have Fili, Kili and Thorin, and be a bit lighter! This is getting too angsty :(  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

"WUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! LET GO OFF ME! LET ME GO!"

"Bofur, be reasonable!"

"LET ME GO!"

It took the combinded strenght of Dwalin, Balin and Bifur to hold the raging dwarf down who wanted to go after his brother, killing himself in the process. Gloin helplessly watched the brown-haired dwarf struggle, his heart aching as he thought of how his own brother had been taken months ago, and of how just like when Oin was taken, words would not ever lessen the pain of the one forced to stay behind.

"LET ME GO! AAAAH! LET ME GO!"

Dwalin shouted at his friend, trying to reason with him, "ARE YOU MAD! YOU WILL ONLY DIE - AND NOT ACHIEVE ONE BLOODY THING! DO YOU THINK BOMBUR WOULD WANT TO SEE YOU DEAD?"

Sobbing, Bofur lay still, pressing his forehead against the cold stones, weeping quietly til his friends pulled him up, trying to console him.

"He'll be alright, he is far too talented to-", Balin started to say, biting his tongue when Dwalin darted a warning look at him as he hugged his friend, letting him cry against his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"We'll get him back, I promise... The little fatty will be alright, he is tought! Listen friend,we will rip of their heads and drown them in their blood to get him back! So do not give up!"

Bifur grunted, patting his cousin on the shoulder as to signal his willingness to fit to his death to free Bombur when the day came to strike against Fain and fight their way out of here. Gloin did not dare to step up to the group, feeling guilty; if only he had been taken instead!

Nori and Dori were still in the mines, working their shift and listening close for rumors as to find out where the once so round, red-haired dwarf had been taken, after thoughtlessly speaking his mind.

The dwarfs had been ordered to stop mining for iron, and start working on a giant tunnel connecting the forge and the minor lake in the south. Fain planned to use water to power the huge hammers needed to press steel and iron, to produce more weapons and armors for his rapidly growing army.  
When they had passed the giant forge on their way down to the tunnels, one dwarf chained to the other, Bombur had, his brother's warning long forgotten, remarked how the precision tools used in the main forge were inferior to those he himself had been using. Before Nori could intervene and bribe them, the guards were already dragging Bombur away, who was to shocked to fight back, his brown eyes filled with fear.

Gloin had returned with the bad news, reproaching himself for not watching out for the younger dwarf. He had expected Bofur to blame him for the loss of his brother, and would have willingly taken the blame; but Bofur only blamed himself, thinking it his fault his little baby brother had come to Drakosterban at all.

"Balin! Balin!", Dori cried, bursting into the cavern Thorin's former company shared, wheezing as he came to a rest after running all the way from the gates down to the dungeons, surrounded in a moment by the other dwarfs.

"Ba-Balin, Nori says -pant- we need more -pant- liquor -pant!"

Exhausted, the young dwarf flopped down, gladly accepting the canteen Gloin handed him without a word, wiping his dirty, sweat face. Dori flinched when he realized all of his companions were staring at him, waiting for him to catch his breath and tell them what he had learned about Bombur's whereabouts.

"Uh, I – uh, Bombur, he- he has been taken to the - uh, workshops, as far as we know. Nori thinks that he might produce some more information from a guard whom he has been trading with recently - if we can produce more liquor to stupefy him."

"Is he alright? Tell me, is he alright!", Bofur cried, barely holding himself back, fighting the urge to grab Dori and shake him until he hurried and told him all he knew. The silver-haired dwarf squirmed, trying to avoid Bofur's frantic look.

"I- uh … We have not heard anything about-"

"Surely he is alright, probably even better off than us – I heard they treat them very well in the workshop!", Balin quickly interrupted Dori, alarmed to see Bofur tremble, his face ashen, and fearing another fit, the white-haired dwarf to order his friends around, hoping activity would help to keep him sane for the moment.

"Well then, let us try to get this infernal distillery to work! Up up, we need to get the fire going! Gloin, take care the fire, Bofur, you see how that machine works, Dori, help me prepare he wash! And you Dwalin, make a new mash!"

Quietly, they went about their tasks, working hard as if they could return Bombur by putting enough effort to it. The workshops were even worse than the mines, being even more murderous but for different reasons. The food and quarters were better than in the dungeons, yet no dwarf went to work their on his own free will; explosions and fires regular ravaged the workshops, crippling and killing dozens of dwarfs. Bofur had charged his little brother countless times to be careful, and never mention his trade to anybody, lest he was dragged up to the workshops – how could the young dwarf still be this careless, blurting out he was a toymaker! Now he had to fight all by himself, ensuring his survival – unless...

Bofur started to laugh hysterically, causing in friends to look up from their tasks alarmed, afraid the brown-haired dwarf was losing his mind from grief; and hearing him speak of his plan, they found their worst fear confirmed, shaking their heads with horror and disbelief at the madness coming from the mouth of Bofur, former master toymaker of Dale.


	51. Third Moon of Spring 2873

_O.o! getting depressed writing this, gaaah - approximately seven chapters until funtimes.. Geez! Hope you don't give up on me guys!  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

"Grandfather?"

Gífli quickly shoved the map aside, hiding it beneath a heap of papers before turning around to see who was disturbing him this late in the night. Fíli and Kíli stood in the door way, both children shivering in their nightgowns one holding the other's hand, his younger grandson's eyes red, his face tear-stained .

"By solid stone, what are you doing down here? Kíli, why are you crying?", the old bald dwarf demanded to know, shooing the children over to the fire place, wrapping a blanket round the chilled dwarf boys.

"Have you got any idea how late it is you brats? Why are you still up?"

Kíli sobbed quietly, clinging to his brother, who tried to explain their situation to his Grandfather, pleading for him to let them stay.

"Grandfather, please, do not send us back! We can't go back to our room – and we don't want to stay here!"

Gífli frowned, sitting down beside the children with his legs crossed.

"You do_ not_ want to leave here, but you can not_ stay_ here? Don't speak in riddles boy!"

Fíli huffed, crossing his arms, copying Gífli's posture, annoyed to find his grandfather was not understanding him, "We do not want to go back to our rooms – and we do not want to stay here! We don't want to stay in the Ered Luin anymore! Grandfather, please - let us go back to Dunland!"

"I see... Is that why your brother is crying?", Gífli asked, pulling the weeping little boy into his lap, wiping away his tears.

"Say Kíli, why are you crying? What happened?"

The little dwarf boy looked at his brother first warily, who nodded at him, answering his unspoken question; if they could not tell their grandfather about their misery, whom else could they trust?

"Mother and father – they are arguing now - and always! And, we were listening, grandfather, and they are-"

He could not finish his sentence, as tears came to his eyes again, the child remembering the adults' harsh words he had involuntary eavesdropped tonight, their parent's fighting loud enough to carry through the massive stone between their room and their mother's chambers.

Fíli took Kíli's cold hand, and continued where his brother had left, his voice sounding low and hopeless as he stared into the fire, "They are saying the want to stop living together- father says, he will leave the mountains, and take us with him! But mother says she won't let him do that - and he wants to leave and – we do not want father leave us! But we do not want to leave mother either!"

Seeing how forlorn his grandson was, the old dwarf tried to pull the elder boy into his lap, surprised to find he could no longer have both of his grandchildren sit on his knees - why, when had Fíli grown this tall? Had he not seen the child in such a long time, searching for the old map of the tunnels?

"Hm, hm hm... He wants to leave the Ered Luin you say... Hm, hm... you stubborn, stupid, only son of mine Efli! Now, don't you cry Kíli, I will have a word with him - and with your mother too! How dare they! It's a sin, just thinking about unbinding themselves from their holy oath! And using their children as pawns! No, I will not see that happen - I will not see that happen!"

Fíli looked at his grandfather doubtfully, not believing anybody could change his parent's minds anymore; but Kíli face brightened up, his hopes rising at his grandfather's determined words.

"Really? You will mother and father tell to get along again? Oh, please, can you tell them we want to go back to Dunland? Please? When uncle Thorin comes back, and mother does not have to be queen, can we go back?"

The bald dwarf smiled grimly, looking into the dying fire with a strange, unsettling look in his eyes as he reassured his grandson, "We will all leave this cursed mountains boys, I promise you – we will leave it and return to a better place, just wait and see what your grandfather can do!"

* * *

Thorin tried to pick up the shirt from the floor using his right hand, sweat forming on his brow as he bent down, forcing his wounded arm to move - in vain.  
No matter how hard he tried, he found he could not lift cloth from the ground, his hand refusing to close round the fabric. The black-haired dwarf cursed violently, almost toppling over from shock when Drór scolded him, returning with his son to the hideout earlier than Thorin had expected them to.

"If it is not healed yet, you shall not use it!"

Thorin shot daggers at the old dwarf, slowly straightening himself, suppressing a groan when his muscles protested the unusual movement. For two months, the king of Durin's folk had lain in his bed, waiting for his body to be restored to it's former state, impatient and distempered whilst he thought of his friends and family.

Lureen smiled at the irritated dwarf and went to pick up his shirt, surprised to have it yanked from his hand thanklessly, his father's guest glowering at him - had he done wrong? He looked sadly at his playmate, who never seemed to wish to play with.

Drór looked at Thorin disapprovingly, patting his son's arm to calm him down, unhappy to find his son trying to befriend the young king.

The half-dwarf had acquired a strange liking for the black-haired dwarf, thinking him his friend and companion, happy to spent his days alone no more, willing to accept even the dwarfs most erratic behavior just to have another living being by his side. All the animals his father had given him had died, not withstanding the darkness and narrowness of the hideout; for many years now, Lureen had been all alone, and only his simple-mindedness kept him from finally despairing.

"You should not strain yourself, or you will not be able to leave when the time has come.", Drór told his unruly patient, changing the dressings on Thorin's right arm. The wound was healing well, and soon only a deep scar would be left to tell of the tortures of Drakosterban – if the young dwarf was willing to let past things be past.

"The pass to the Misty Mountains will soon be open. Two or three weeks most, and you shall be able to ride home."

Thorin's hair hung wildly into his face, unkempt for days since he would not let Lureen brush him in his father's stead, giving him the look of a murderous highwayman as he looked at Drór wild-eyed.

"I will not ride for the Ered Luin Drór, so stop your foolish words, trying to convince me! How can you still be here! Why haven't you gone for the Iron Hills to alarm Dain? Do you lack the courage to stop Fain?!"

Alarmed by Thorin's anger, Lureen got up from his bed, ready to come to his father's aid; but Drór just gestured his son to continue playing with his wooden toys, knowing the young dwarf posed no threat to him.

"Courage? What courage is needed, to recklessly ride to the east to find one's death? Dragons, Wargs, Orcs, or Fain's wolves – which one do you prefer? No, your only chance lies with your own people! Go back to your home little king, and hide in your mountains – fortify them, prepare for war, and never set a foot outside again. For to survive is braver than to die."

"Is that the same dwarf speaking, who got branded for asking about the fate of the daughters of men?"

They stared each other in the eye for a long time, a battle of will and hatred, calm, pale blue eyes locked with glowering dark blue ones. Finally, the heir of the Erebor averted his eyes, his good hand clenched, his body shaking with anger and defeat, his right hand twitching useless.

Gathering the wash, Drór went about the room, biding his son goodbye; before leaving, he turned around once more, and solemnly addressed his enraged, unwilling guest, "The dwarf who would risk the life of his child, to see justice brought about has long died, Thorin Oakenshield. Return home and live well, go and have children of your own - for one as young as you is spared by death to bring forth life, not death. Forget this place, forget your suffering – just leave and live young king. Your people need you."

Thorin quietly watched the old dwarf leave, a cold fury burning in his eyes, swearing an oath under his breath.

"I will live, Drór, and I will bring end to this madness – and if you stand in my way, I will be yours to!"


	52. Third Moon of Spring 2873, Part 2

_Happy Easter everybody! Next post tomorrow, or next monday, going for a small holiday! _

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Spring 2873 ~  
**_

"Still considering your plan as brilliant?", Balin asked, rather pitying than mocking his friend as he slathered his back with mutton fat.

"Well- I did work out, you have to admit!", Bofur chuckled, carefully flexing his muscles as he put on his shirt, satisfied to find his back almost healed. The scars would not fade as long as he lived, but the brown-haired dwarf considered himself lucky enough to live; the guard had not meant to kill him when they tied him up for the flogging.

"Any news from Nori?"

Balin shook his head, licking his fingers clean as he thought it a waste to just wipe the tallow off on his shirt, "No, he has not returned yet … I surely hope his estimation of the guards will not be his undoing!"

The two dwarfs sat on their cots, both musing about their companion, who had vanished two days ago, trusting the guards whom he had been trading with enough to follow them deep into the mines, where they had buried the king of the Ered Luin.

Their quarters were luxurious now, compared to their small, cold cave in the mines; whilst they no longer shared one room, each of them still had a bed and blanket of their own, and the meals were regular enough to keep them from starving.

"I'm worried about your brother Bofur – he does not seem to be doing any better, does he?"

The younger dwarf sighed, looking at Balin with sorrowful eyes, "I do not know what to do either- he barely eats, and is brooding all the time! He takes his tasks to heart, and blames himself for creating instrument of torture – if it was not for us, he probably would have..."

Bofur did not need to finish his sentence, for Balin knew about the once so easygoing dwarf's despair just as well. Bombur at first had not understood what he was working at, his biggest sorrow being the loss of his brother – but soon he realized what the thin, delicate instruments were used for, and loathed himself for creating them to be used on other dwarfs.

If Bofur had not let himself be deported to the workshops too, the remaining members of Thorin Oakenshield's company following one by one, the formerly round dwarf would long have killed himself, or rather, let himself be killed; often, his worried elder brother suspected Bombur actually regretted being reunited with him, not wishing to continue his life in Drakosterban anymore.

"We have to hold on, and make it out of here alive Bofur! No matter how long it takes- at least one of us has to make it back home, to warn our people!"

Balin was working in the forge now, working on perfecting the hinges of the armors Fain's workers were forming, dozens being made per day. His head was swimming when he counted the armors being produce, their sheer number frightening him; Fain's army would soon be rivaling his brothers, no force in middle earth able to withstand them anymore.

"I wonder if Nori's words are true...", Bofur mused, watching the door carefully, in care somebody was planning to eavesdrop them.

"I doubt there are as many warriors as hopes there are, who are loathing Fain for creating half-dwarfs, my friend... I have seen and heard them do worse, and they did not seem the least upset doing unspeakable things!"

Balin shuddered, the maimed, bloody bodies of the dwarfs who tried to escape still haunting his dreams. The had been captured and returned to the forge, to be skinned alive and hanged from their feet until they finally, after hours, had died; three brothers, who had sworn to escape together, all kidnapped from the Misty Mountains. Balin had know their father once, who had been a merchant in the Erebor, dead for trying to defend his home – and now, with his sons, his line had come to an end for all times.

"We should not trust anybody but ourselves Bofur... I fear that whoever has once served Fain out of his free will once, will not dare to stand against him when the time comes... We need to be careful!"

* * *

"He is not here!", the smaller guard cried horrified, demanding to be given the lantern, crawling into the narrow tomb.

"Are you sure this is the right one? Maybe you-", Nori wondered, suddenly anxious when the two dwarfs started to panic.

"Goddamn it, this is the right one, do you think us stupid!?"

"Somebody must have come and claimed him then."

"NO! Only we have the key and map to the grave yard!"

The two guards argued vividly, one blaming the other to have taken the corpse with him, whilst Nori looked around the tunnel, trying to figure out where he was. He had been blindfolded, and was sure they had taken pains to fool him they had wandered for miles; but he still could smell the coal fire smoke of the forge, which meant they had been walking in circles.

Bór and Tór had promised to show him the dead body of Thorin Oakenshield, spilling the secret of having buried the king's son, instead of leaving him to the vulture of the dungeons, who did not respect any dead body.

There was a cold wind sweeping the tunnel, coming from tunnel leading straight up, serving as a natural chimney; Nori nodded to himself, seeing how the rock was uneven and broken, providing footholds strong enough to provide a dwarf desperate enough to face certain death.

"Well, only you and Fain have the keys you mean.", the sly dwarf remarked nonchalant, trying to keep any suspicious emotion from his face as he overjoyed spotted a piece of dark-blue fabric hanging from a sharp rock.

Bór and Tór stopped arguing, dumb-founded looking at each other, pondering Nori's words for a long moment before agreeing, sighing with relieved at being presented with a simple, clean solution to their dilemma.

"Surely, surely! He must have taken the body! God knows what for – surely, our lord took him for himself!"

"Indeed, Fain tool him- no need to tell anybody!"

"Surely not, haha!"

"Sorry Nori, there is nothing we can do for you now, your king is...well, nothing we can do!", they quickly apologized, before blindfolding the prisoner again, who could not help but smirk as they led him back to the workshops.

"I am grateful for what you did for my king, and for showing me where you put him to rest- now, let us go back and drink to his rest, I think I still got a bottle in my quarters."

The guards nodded eagerly, their minds clouded by the poison they consumed regularly to drown their hatred for their Lord Fain, whose breeding program was nauseate them. Happily talking about the alcohol they soon would be consuming, they failed to notice their prisoner snatching the key to the underground grave yard, who tried to not laugh out loud, for the first time in months feeling hopeful.


	53. First Moon of Summer 2873

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

"You are a rare, stubborn fool Thorin.", Dror quietly remarked as he put the plates on the table, annoyed to find the young dwarf unchanged in his views.  
Thorin ignored the old dwarf and finished his training, swinging punches at imaginary foes and stabbing them, regretting his lack a real sword to strengthen his arm.

Lureen sat on his bed and watched the dwarf king fascinated, chuckling with joy, unaware of his father's disapproving look.

"Come here and eat your dinner boy! And you too, you crazy king - even if I do not feel much like wasting food on a dead dwarf."

Thorin rolled his eyes at the old dwarf, but refrained from saying anything; he was much indebted to Dror, and still needed his help to prepare and set forth for the Iron Hills. But the young dwarf did not find any respect in his heart for the cowardly old dwarf, often scorning him for hiding his son and himself, rather than trying to stop Fain.

They ate in silence, Lureen looking from one dwarf to the other, saddened to not hear them talk; for even if he did not understand much of what they were saying, he always enjoyed hearing their words, for a short time silence not being his only companion.

Whilst Dror was putting the plates back into the basket, Thorin leaned backwards in the chair much too tall for him, and crossed his arms, trying to keep his anger and frustration out of his voice as he informed the old dwarf of his plan, "I will be leaving tomorrow."

Slowly, Dror put down the basket, and returned to the table, sitting in a position almost mirroring Thorin's, a contemptuous look in his blue eyes.

"There might be snow tomorrow."

"I will ride nevertheless. You said that once that pass is free from ice, snowfalls will not hinder a willing rider."

"Did I says so... And what about Wargs? They are hungry and roaming the area. You do think, you stand a chance against one of them? How about hundreds?"

"I will fight them all."

Dror raised an eyebrow, shaking his head disbelieving, "And the Orcs? Will you fight them too? Their numbers are less now, for Fain's wolves are hunting them mercilessly ... But if you shall be seen by a patrol of Fain, your fate will be worse than if an Orc captured you, young fool."

Thorin's eyes were cold and hard as stell, as he repeated slowly, "I will ride tomorrow, if you help me, or not."

"What if I do not wish for you to go? What if I can not let you live and go your ways, to tell about my son, should Fain capture you?"

Lureen looked up surprised from his toys, sensing his father was referring to him.

The young dwarf king looked at the man-child depreciating, its existence irking him; but he honored a father's love even for an abomination.

"I will not speak one word to friend or foe about your son – you have my word. No torture will ever part my lips."

Dror looked at his young guest, who had recovered from his wounds remarkably well, the healing fueled by his mad desire to have revenge on Fain for his lost friends. No, the old dwarf could truly not regard Thorin Oakenshield as a dwarf to break an oath, seeing the burning hatred in his eyes.

"I see, you are too stubborn to listen to reason, or be afraid, young king – well, so be it! Ride for your death, and ride quick. I will give you my best pony, and provisions too; but least your quest should fail, do not dare to return to my house! Once you leave, you shall not return."

"Fair enough.", Thorin agreed, and after a moment of reluctance, offered Dror his right hand. The old dwarf quietly shook his hand, accepting the mountain king's decision finally, after keeping him from setting forth for two weeks.

Lureen had watched their dispute worried, not daring to speak a word, though desperately wishing to stop their argument. He was happy to see his father and playmate make their peace at last, and sounding excited as he explained, "Lureen co-me t-oo!"

"NO YOU WILL NOT!", both dwarfs yelled at the half-dwarf in a moment, causing him to flinch and hide behind his bed confused and hurt, tears coming to his pale blue eyes.

Thorin snorted, almost amused, shaking his head, "Who would have thought... So there is something we do agree on Dror!"

Dror smiled half-heartedly, worried by his son's wish, "There is one thing indeed, Thorin Oakenshield... Had we lived in different times, we may have found some more."

* * *

"Old fool, old fool... what are you doing!", Gífli muttered to himself, his pickaxe eating away the granite blocking the entrance.

Long ago, he had sworn an oath to never tell anybody about the blocked caverns nor ever break the seal to the unholy grounds by himself, and cursed himself quietly as he hammered the stone blocking the tunnel away. It had taken him longer than expected to find Efli Ironeyes old hideout, and twice he had spent days destroying stone walls, only to find he was wrong again. But this time, he knew he had found what he had been looking for; his body was tingling with a strange, anxious sensation, and he could already smell the exotic stench of forbidden, dark treasures.

The old dwarf did not dare to widen the entrance he had created, squeezing himself through the narrow hole in the wall, cursing violently as he dropped his lantern.

He was in no need of its light, but felt more comfortable using an ordinary lantern, than relying on the brightness of things Efli, the only magician ever born to the Blue Mountains had left behind. Gífli felt soiled just stepping into the tunnel leading to the main cavern, thinking the faint glow coming from the decorated walls was seeping through his clothes and eating away his skin.

Elfi had warned him about not entering these caverns unguided, as most things the fearsome dwarf kept down there were not meant to be seen or touched by mortals, even the stones being murderous, burning off the skin of a grown dwarf's hands when handled without care.

No, this was no place he wished to ever set foot in again, and had there been any other way, Gífli would not ever have returned here; but the situation of his family was dire, and only here he could find a solution to the dilemma his son and grandchildren were suffering from. The old, bald dwarf looked uneasy at the jars and glass containers on the shelves, shuddering at their content; Eflí had been a true warlock, and his magic was darker than the eyes of the mountains.

He hurried over to the dusty desk, where he remembered last seeing the tome which contained all Elfí Ironeyes had ever written down about the magic of the mountains, half afraid of finding it as he brushed dry papers aside. Where was it? Had somebody stolen it?

Just when Gifli was about to give up, almost relieved to fail, the tome caught his eyes - he jumped with fright, so suddenly it came to the fore.

"Just one spell... just one... I will not done any harm, will I?", Gífli whispered to himself, his hands shaking as they reached for the heavy book bound in smooth green leather. The book was not covered in dust, and looked as if it had been used recently; the old dwarf shuddered, refusing to believe anybody else would be as mad as him searching the magician's cavern.

"No, it must be... is can't be... oh, damn you all..."

He opened the book, half expecting it to curse him and posses him; but as it bared its worn out pages, the tome appeared to be nothing but an old book, written in the ancient language, its contents no more dangerous than a children's book.

"Just one spell... just one... just one...", Gífli reassured himself, leaving through the book, his fears subsiding.  
It was just one spell, what harm could he possibly do?  
All the old dwarf was wishing for was for his family to see the wrong of their ways and stand together again... What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

_Feedback please :)!_


	54. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 2

_ Thanks to Comics4theFeels, Purestrongpoem, LiL PriNCeSs, chestry007, , bronze andromeda shun, Gemeryn, sph9swc, liaskye, Luzith, .5832, Seduction, Autumn, PrincessMnMz and BM originally for the lovely feedback :) And also cookies and thank you to everybody still watching and reading! _

_Three months already! Thank you so much! ^_^ And now, hehe, onto chapter 54!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

The two dwarfs glowered at each other over their plates, the food still untouched; Dwalin had been right to worry about Nori and Balin working the same shift, with no one to keep them from each other's throat, as they were having a bitter quarrel once more.

"I say, you are wasting your time! And you are endangering all of us! Do you wish for us to die?", the white-haired dwarf snarled, keeping a close eye on the guards at the far end of the hall.

"We are already dead Balin – and you, you are most dead of us all, trying to keep us all hushed and quiet!", the other dwarf answered, watching the other tired dwarfs taking a break, sitting nearby. "We are dead and buried, unless we do as _I_ say - _before_ Fain is ready to make his move!"

"You are insane! Trusting any guard round here is sheer madness! What if they are setting you up?", Balin hissed, forcing himself to smile as a guard looked at them suspiciously. Nori smiled at him as well and nodded at the guard, signaling him almost unnoticeable with his hands that there would be a new moonshine brew ready soon, which drew a smile from the grim dwarf in return.

"What choice do we have according to you Balin? Wait until we are hanged on a whim of Fain? How long do you want to continue this way, forging weapons, intended to kill our families you damned fool?"

Balin was grinding his teeth, wanting to take a punch at the self-confident thief, who had about as much sense for corporate good as a dragon at times, thinking his plan infallible. "_I_ say, we keep quiet and wait for a chance to run! For once Fain is reading his army-"

Nori scoffed, a cruel smile on his lips, "You think you're the only one who wants to do that? Run off in the chaos? Ha! No, running away is no option Balin! You can't escape the darkness under the Mountain - not even if you had stolen a ring of power. Fain is too powerful in these lands – the stone itself were out to murder us, if he said one word! No, we need to-"

He interrupted himself, quickly supping his meal as a new guard walked past him, Balin following his example as he saw danger approach. Quietly they finished the salty stew and went about to return to their work as the break was almost over. As they got up, Nori quietly shoved a dark-blue into Balin's hand, smiling grimly as he whispered into the stunned dwarf's ear as he passed him, "He is alive Balin, and will come for us – so let us fight and do whatever we can! We will not fail our king again!"

Balin stared disbelieving at his hand for a moment, holding his breath. The dwarf found it hard to contain himself, and hurried after his companion, clutching the piece of cloth in his right hand, his finger nails drawing blood from his palm to keep himself from shouting out with joy. So there was reason to live still! There was hope! No, he would not give up now – not as long as Thorin was still alive! He would fight where he stood, bringing down the Mountain on Fain if he had to!

* * *

"I am sorry Kíli.", the blond dwarf boy said, talking to his brother's back, who had not moved nor spoken a word since they had gone to bed, staring at the closed door with red eyes.

All day long, the boys had waited for their uncle's return, excited at every knock and step, running to met every guest coming to the party.

But Thorin Oakenshield had not come home this day, nor any other day; months had passed without a letter from him, with no messenger riding through the gates carrying news of the lost dwarf king. His people wondered if he had dropped of the face of the earth, complaining - but since their queen ruled them without interfering with their private lives, most were content, some getting comfortable with the thought of their king never returning at all.

Fíli and Kíli found themselves to be the only dwarfs who longed daily for the return of their uncle, watching the horizon. Even their mother seemed to busy to think about the mysterious fate of her brother those days, rarely mentioning him at all on their short visits to see her sons before she went to bed exhausted.

"Surely he will be home next week Kíli.", Fíli tried to cheer his brother up, putting an arm round his waist. But the younger dwarf shook his head, whispering dolefully, "He won't ever come back."

"Kíli, you mustn't talk like that! Of course uncle Thorin is coming home! Just wait and see – he did come back last year too, didn't he? You know he is coming back!", Fíli cried, mad with his brother for giving up on their uncle like everybody else, almost hitting him on the back of his head for his frustration, "You have to believe! He will be back!"

But Kíli just sighed and curled up in a little ball, covering his ears as he did not wish to listen to his brother's repetitive assurance of their uncle's safe return anymore, or any other futile promise, stubbornly repeating, " He won't come back...He never ever will come back!"

* * *

"Hello, Fíli, Kíli, are you still- no... Children, will you- no... No, no, no good!", Efli lamented, tumbling forward as he lost his balance yet again, barely managing to break his fall by grabbing a tapestry. He had been drinking – moderately, as he was convinced – and was now resolved to go and see his sons and take them away with him, probably to Dunland, or the coal mines, anyway out of the mountains. It was his youngest son's birthday, the time to sow wheat and vegetables and enjoy the warmth of the sun – not to waste away beneath the Blue Mountains, where he was locked up in the royal quarters, Dís forbidding him to leave his rooms unless he was sober.

What did that woman know! What did she, sitting on her throne – her brother's throne, Eflí corrected himself – thinking she ruled the dwarfs of the Ered Luin, who actually could not care less for her. _Proud h_ad she become, and cold too, claiming _he_ had changed, when it was _her _who was all different now!  
Eflí pitied himself, remembering the good old days when he was a humble miner, and Dís a good, honest women raising her sons and keeping the house – weren't they happy back then? Weren't they a beautiful family?

"She- she will see - what she... She will be sh-sorry!", Eflí told himself as he let go of the tapestry, taking another step towards his sons' bedroom, and another, and another, slowly making his way through the empty halls. He would tell them he loved them, and they would tell him they loved him too, and they would leave for Dunland, and Dís would see the error of her ways, and take off her stupid crown and come too, and they would be-

"Hu?", the grey-haired dwarf mumbled surprised, feeling something sting him like a particularly tall bee, a funny feeling spreading through his left side. As he slowly looked down at his body, he was surprised to find his coat changing its color, red flowers blooming on the silver-white pattern - pretty, very pretty, but he could not remember every seeing flowers in the Ered Luin before?

He broke out in cold sweat as he realized he had been stabbed, not stung, suddendly afraid as he turned round to see who had painted the red flowers on his silver coat, his sight growing dim as he took a stumbling step towards the sword-bearer, his hand shaking.

"Who- …you …. but ...why?...", he wondered confused, as he slowly sank to the ground losing conciousness, his hand never reaching the ghostly pale dwarf standing lonesome in the halls. Why couldn't he reach out anymore? Reach out to wipe the blood stains away from the beloved, familiar face? To see if he could not get those cold eyes smile at him once again like they used to?


	55. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 3

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

Two- three hundred feet? Half a mile? How much longer could he carry on?

His lungs were on fire, the cold air more painful with every breath he drew as he kept running over the frozen ground, dead branches tearing at his clothes, roots causing him to stumble.

The pony's shrill cries had since long died away, and Thorin knew the Wargs would soon be coming after him, crazed with hunger, looking for their next prey.  
He had traveled the Grey Mountains for five days, unseen by any creature, traveling day and night, pitying his poor mount, which he knew could not survive this journey if he himself was to make it through the woods alive.

Dror had advised him to ride as fast as he could, and not spare the beast, for it soon would starve anyway in the mountains for the grass was still dead beneath the snow. The old dwarf's pale blue eyes were devoid of any emotion as he had saddled the pony, sending it to its certain death in the Grey Mountains with a stranger, causing Thorin to wonder if Dror still had a heart of flesh beating in his chest. The young mountain king had seen dwarfs mourn for their ponies more than for a friend, and could not understand how the old dwarf could not regret sending the good, brave animal to its death without biding it farewell at least.

The howling grew louder, and Thorin knew the Wargs were catching up with him; he had hoped to reach the foot of the mountain before they were done tearing the pony apart, as to have a better chance to defend himself between the towering rocks left behind by the retreating glacier - but the hunger of the beasts was greater than he had feared.

Thorin decided to run for the nearest group of trees instead, spotting the first Wargs breaking through the frozen undergrowth at the other side of the snow field, shaking off the snow from their snouts, trying to find his scent again before spotting him. The ground he ran across rose steadily, but fortunately was clear of snow and ice, which surprised the young dwarf – but running for his life, he found he had no time to ponder upon the mystery or thank the gods for a small blessing.

A tall fir tree was closest to him, and the branches were low enough for the dwarf to reach- but Thorin knew that whatever tree could climb with ease, the creatures would be able to climb too. He ran towards another tree, wondering how an oak could possibly survive in the harsh climate of the Grey Mountains- when suddenly, his left foot sank deep into the soft, dry ground.

Frantic he tried to free himself, seeing the Wargs racing towards him, foam dripping from their fangs; but when he saw he could not get his foot out of the ground as is was stuck, he pulled forth the sword lent to him by Dror, smiling grimly at the irony of his journey ending a mere handful of days since he had left, sure to take revenge on Fain.

"COME AT ME YOU BEAST! COME FOR THRAIN'S SON AND TASTE HIS BLOOD IF YOU DARE!", Thorin cried, kneeling down to steady himself, ready to ram the blade into the first Warg's throat, when he felt his foot coming free – but to the dwarf's horror, not only his foot came lose, but the whole ground suddenly started to move as the earth opened up, rocks and trees sliding helplessly towards into the depth.

Thorin tried to reach out for a root, a rock, anything to stop his rapid fall into the sink hole- but it was in vain, as earth and rocks gained more and more momentum, taking the screaming dwarf with them as if he was but a toy, burying him alive, as the hill poured into the abyss steadily like an endless waterfall of dirt.

* * *

"Hey! You know we are not allowed to kill him! **Stop it**!"

The other guard smirked, and not letting go of his prisoner, sneered at the red-haired prision warder, "Why? t's not like he does need all of his bones intact to be hanged! So why not break some of them, so he does come to his senses a bit, hu?"

The young dwarf looked at his comrade disgusted, but knew better than to speak his mind, and earn himself a similar fate. He let the guard carry on without saying a word, but averted his eyes, sickened by the guard's enjoyment of the pain he inflicted. The poor, stupid dwarf who was now in his custody had tried to escape, which by itself would not have been heavily reprimanded, since he had not gotten very far; but the grey-haired dwarf had taken a child with him, which was reason enough to put him to death the moment he was spotted.

As the other dwarf seemed to be satisfied with his work, he put the prisoner back into the holding cell, shoving him inside forcefully, laughing as the bloodied, helpless dwarf hit his head on at the wall, crying out in pain.

"Haha, well - better not crack your head and die on us, Oin son of Groin! For Lord Fain wants to punish and send you to your death all by himself! _And who would want to miss that one out_! Haha!"

Laughing, the guard left the prison as to report to Fain about the catch he and his company had made on their regular patrols, rejoicing at the thought of the rewards he would be given.

Seeing he was all by himself, the young warder tried to coax the prisoner to crawl towards the iron bars, so he could tend to his wounds, as he dared not to open the cell least he would be caught, aiding a traitor.

"Come to me- do not be afraid, I will not hurt you- you have been beaten badly, haven't you... Oin, that is your name? Oin, come here, do not fear me, I am not like them!"

Confused, Oin stared at the young dwarf sitting in front of his cell, seeing his lips move but not hearing any sound coming from them, considering the poor dwarf mute.  
Blood ran into the grey-haired dwarf's eyes from a laceration on his forehead, and with his tongue Oin could feel some of his teeth had been knocked out; from the pain coming from his rips, maybe some of them were broken too. But he was not worried as much for himself, as for the fate of the little girl he had tried to take away with him- had they returned her to the nursery? Or had they ... No, the child was far to valuable, they surely would not harm her?

Oin wondered why the dwarf sitting in front of his cell seemed to be mad with him, making wild gestures, his mouth wide open as if he was screaming – was the poor youngster also a half-breed, stupid and wild, like the ones he had seen? He looked like a normal dwarf, but since Fain had for long been breeding his soldiers now, he would not have been suprised if there were even wilder halflings hiding in the mountain.

"What do you want from me?", Oin asked slowly, his swollen tongue slurring his voice.

The youngster moved his lips again, apparently frustrated at seeing the wounded dwarf not being able to understand his intentions. Slowly, Oin tried to get up and move towards him, curious at what the other dwarf tried to tell him, dragging the chains binding his feet behind him-

Oin froze in horror, and slowly looked behind him, a fearsome realization dawning on him.

The chains – why weren't they making any sound?

Cold with fear, the dwarf shuffled his right feet, to provoke the annoying, ever present rattling- he saw the iron links moved across the stone, but not one faint noise did reach his ears!

His eyes wide with fear, he turned to look at the young dwarf reaching out for him through the bars, whose lips moving slowly now, as if he could make his prisoner understand him by speaking softer, smiling at the grey-haired dwarf reassuringly.

Shaking with dread, Oin covered his ears with his hands, as if he could undo the damage done by the guards' beating, and started screaming on top of his lungs as he found he could not even hear his own cries anymore.


	56. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 4

_Sorry sorry sorry for posting so little and irregular, I hope I get the next chapter done by tomorrow! _

_And it will be a bit more light-hearted hopefully, aaaah! all this suspeeeeense!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

Darkness... Quiet... No, not quiet - still...

...not one sound to be heard, even his own breath - gone...

... He was buried alive!

Thorin tried to not open his eyes or move, refraining from take a deep breath, finding his face was pressed against sand and stones.  
He remembered falling down, and wondered how many tons of earth were resting on top of him. He could feel heavy roots pinning him down, probably belonging to the oak he had tried to reach when the ground gave in, saving him from the Wrags - but crushing him to death eventually.

He had not suffocated yet, for the roots on top of him formed a natural alcove, providing him with some space, a bit air to breath – but for how much longer?  
And how was he supposed to free himself – surely, once he started moving, the whole structure would start to shift!

The dwarf king lay still, fighting the urge to flex his muscles against the painful pressure on his back. No, he could not die yet, not before he had reached the Iron Hills and alarmed Dain – but how he possibly could free himself? Buried alive in the depths of a sink hole, tons of stone and sand patiently crushing his body? How could he free himself?!

* * *

"I feel cold... Ever since the dragon was killed, the Mountains have not been this quiet! Oh, it feels like everybody is gone ...", Rés mumbled to herself, drawing her scarf round her shoulders but still feeling cool.

Two guards were leading her back to her chambers, nervously clutching their axes, holding their breath whenever they stepped out the the poor light provided by the torches at the walls. For three days, they had not dared to leave their posts, fearing the murderer to strike again at any moment, targeting their queen. Weariness was beginning to take its toll causing the two dwarfs to jump at the faintest sound, the stone itself taking fearful shapes in their eyes.

"I do not think I shall need any further protection- do return to your quarters too, and rest a bit.", Rés tried to urge the guards to leave her side as she stepped into her living room, annoyed by the fearful surveillance following her even beyond her doorstep.

"My lady, we have been ordered to make sure you are safe within your quarters-"

Indignant, the dwarf woman interrupted the guard, "What do you think could possibly harm me in here? _In my own rooms_? Will you stand guard for hours, lest a books falls from the shelf and hits me on the head?"

The guards looked at each other unhappy, but did not leave the room, the smaller one timidly pointing out, "But, Lady Rés... We will be punished severely by the Queen if something happens to you on our watch!"

Both guards quickly took a step backwards as the red-head glared a them, frightened by the fury burning in her tired green eyes.

"You will _not_ enter my rooms and scare me and my son as you please! Stand guard _outside _if you have to- but you will_ not step through this door _unless I order you to! _Come in and you will suffer my wrath if you hear me not_!"

"But- Lady Rés-"

"**OUT!**", the red-haired dwarf woman yelled, causing the two guards to hurry outside and quickly shut the door behind them, after taking a worried look at the lady's quarters once more, afraid to see an assassin lurk in there, ready to attack the lady they where ordered to protect when they were not watching.

"Morons...", Rés cursed softly, untying her scarf and dropping it on the floor, then unlacing her corset as she went about the room.

"Ori? Where are you?", she cried, wandering through the spacious chambers she had been given, looking for her young son who did not answer her calls.

Finally, she found him huddled in a corner of his room, sunk in a book, oblivious of his surroundings; Rés smiled to herself, wondering if she should interrupt him at all, seeing how he was safe from all harm and fears as long as he had a book to hold - but propably starving too.

"Dear? Ori, my little one?"

"Whaaaa!", the little dwarf yelled, almost hurling his book towards his mother in defense, barely containing himself in his fright.

"Now now, it is just me, my darling- have eating anything today? Or did you forget breakfast and lunch and dinner again?", the dwarf woman scolded your only child softly, wondering if Ori would ever be able to take care of himself.

"Oh, I – I forgot mother you told me to- I am sorry!"

"Then let us have a late dinner together my dear, for I too have not eaten anything today- come, will you help me set the table?"

"Yes!", Ori cried excitedly, quickly extinguishing the candles burning on his desk, happy to see his mother's softer side once again. He had not seen his mother for more than a few hours the past few days, and as much as he was worried for queen's husband – or more, the father of Fíli and Kíli to him – he still longed to spent more time with his mother, wishing she would stop seeing to her duties as the queen's first gentle woman all together and just be there for him.

Grabbing anther piece of cold meat and slapping it onto the already dangerously loaded silce of bread, Ori suddenly stopped chewing for moment, and worriedly asked, he thought just coming to his mind, "Mother, how is Mister Efli doing today?"

Rés took a sip from her beer mug and tried to hide her face, afraid the boy would read her disgusted expression.

"He is doing better, and the fever is going down...But they do not know if he will live yet..."

Ori looked saddened, and put down his bread, his appetite gone for the moment, "Poor Fili and Kili, they are surely suffering – can I not go and see them mother? Only for an hour? I promise I will not make a fool out of myself-"

"No Ori, no. Dís will not have anybody entered the royal quarters but ehr and the doctor at this time... Not even I am allowed to see her husband or children anymore, for she is afraid... You will have to be patient my dear."

Rés looked down at her plate, thus not seeing her son look at her surprised. His mother's words were confusing him – what should he be patient for? What was his mother trying to tell him? Her words did not sound very friendly...

Efli, son of Gifli, had not ever been highly esteemed by the Ered Luin dwarfs, and the Erebor dwarfs also had not been shy to show their animosity against the unfit husband at her princess's side, all the more as his drinking problem became more and more well-known; certainly not few dwarfs under the mountains were hoping the wounded dwarf would not survive the fatal attack.

When the miner had been found, drunk and bleeding to death, stabbed in the back, the head of the guard had not sent for help immediately, but waited for almost an hour, looking for the assassin instead of tending to the victim - and not one of his guards had told a word about this to the queen, who went white as marble and did not speak a word, seeing her husband carried into her quarters, considering him dead.

As the news spread, the Mountain seemed to go to sleep, as all work was abandoned and all hammers lain aside; though not in concern for the wounded dwarf man battling death, but for the young queen suffering by his side. Rés had seen to her queen's needs, and tried her best to ease her worried mind, thoughtfully providing anything which might console her friend before Dís could wish for it. On the second day of Eflí lying quietly on his bed, fever ragging his body, Rés had gone to Dís' private study, to see if she might not find a book and pen for her queen, when suddenly, buried and hidden in discarded papers, she had found a paper knife whose blade was dull and crusted, the dried blood an unsightly contrast to the shimmering metal of the handle.

_We will find whoever did to this Dìs, and see him brought to justice_ – Rés almost laughed out loud as she stood by the queen's desk, the irony of her words paining her. Why, who would have guessed for Dís herself be the one to – no, it was not possible?  
Had she not know her all her life? Rés was torn between what she saw, and what she had always seen – what if it was a conspiracy?  
But then, who would have been able to hide the knife in Dís room, for nobody had the key to it but the queen herself?

Rés slipped the paper knife into her pocket, and held her candle to the papers blackened by blood, feeling strange as she watched the notes and documents curl and turn into fine grey ashes. Calm, she returned to her queen's side, holding her as she cried against her shoulder, resolved to not betray the secret she had learn to anybody, not even Dís herself, even if she was scared to death by finding her Queen to hold a darkness in heart to rival the Ered Luin itself - who would be the next one standing in her path?

* * *

"Well, take care little brother...", Balin said, quickly turning round and pretending to look out for guards coming down the corridor, so Dwalin would not see his tears.

The younger dwarf laughed, his huge hand crushing on his brother's shoulder, "Aww, don't say, are you crying old fool?"

The white-haired dwarf huffed, crossing his arms, not looking up to see the smirk on Dwalin's face, "Oh, just tears of joy - about finally getting rid of you!"

"HA! Well, then may the parting last to the end of days!", Dwalin joked, but seeing his elder brother's shoulders slump, his small frame shaking, he felt sorry for mocking him.

As he hugged him from behind, he tried to reassure the elder dwarf, who had to stay behind again as he set forth for Fain's chambers, "See, this will be only for a short time, and then all this is over- your plan is good my brother, very good! We surely will be victorious!"

Balin shook his head, resting his right hand on Dwalin's tattooed arm, "No, please - do not estimated our enemy Dwalin... One slip of tongue, and all of us are done! Oh, I am afraid some of the guards are getting suspicious of Nori already... No! Stay! Please - we can not afford to let you go! What was I doing-"

The tall dwarf drew his brother closer, hushing him as he started to cry, "Sh, Balin, your plan is good- sh... I will follow it, from the beginning to the end, and everything will be good, and we shall see each other again, I promise... do not cry brother, do not cry! Shh... I will come back to you- and you take good care of yourself, or I come and beat you!"

"Oh, you will! You're the worst, most rascal little brother... Beating me up- hehe, I count on you to come back! I do... I do..."

Balin laughed as tears streamed down his cheeks, feeling impossible cold when Dwalin let go of him, his body shaking as he heard him walk away from him. The white-haired dwarf did not dare to turn round and watch his little brother leave, knowing he would not be able to let him go if he looked at him just one more time.

"Take care... oh please, do take care..", Balin whispered, staggering forward to meet with the few remaining dwarfs their company, a huge, painful hole in his chest where his heart used to be.


	57. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 5

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Shouldn't you be asleep?", Bofur quietly asked, proping himself up to take a better look at the other dwarf who obviously was wide-awake too.

Oin huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, opening his eyes but refusing to look at Bofur, "So, why? Is it not my own business when or how long I choose to sleep?"

Bofur shrugged and lay down on the thin mattress again, staring at the ceiling instead.

"I do not care at all if you sleep at all- but if you fall asleep tomorrow and fall into the forge, don't come running to me!"

Oin grunted, trying to not let Bofur cheer him up, thinking it unfit to laugh and joke, when one friend was walking into his certain death, and another one was sick with worry and fear therefore.

"Say, since we both can't sleep- how about a game?"

"A GAME?", the red-haired dwarf cried enraged, sitting up on his bed to glower at the other dwarf.

"Yes, why not?", Bofur asked a bit too nonchalant, his smile almost giving him away – of all the dwarfs of Thorin Oakenshield's company, Oin surely was the one to irk and mock the easiest, for he never seemed to get a message more subtle than an axe.

"A _GAME_! Are you – yes, you are mad! A _game_, now of all times!", Oin yelled, shaking his fist at the laughing dwarf, "Dwalin is gone and Balin has not eaten in two days, sick with worry- how can you think about having fun you- you-_ what is so funny?!_"

Bofur was laughing so hard he almost fell from the bed, and tried in vain to calm down, as he thought the other dwarf's overreaction hilarious, "Oh- hahah-but- Oin, please- ah, ahhhhahaha, do not be mad! Hahao... Haha...Well, I am trying to- bahaha, your face! Oh, it's as red as- hahah!"

Only when Oin seemed about to get up and punch him, Bofur managed to contain himself, trying to justify himself, "Oin, oh, haha... Oh, say, what good is it, us brooding all day here? Hu? If we fight each other, we only do help Fain, don't we? Hahah...Oh, forgive, I did not mean to- but don't you see what you are doing hothead? We need to cool down and wait- and when our chance comes, we strike."

The red-haired dwarf looked at his companion suspicious, unsure if he was being mocked again, deciding to be wary this time of any argument the other brought up, no matter how convincing he sounded.

Bofur smiled a bit sadly, seeing Oin withdraw and stare at him hostile.  
"Oh Oin,you're such a stubborn dwarf… And you know it - you just could not have gone instead of Dwalin,you lose your temper so fast! So, what is the point in us being miserable?"

The red-haired dwarf jumped off his bed and quickly crossed the room, towering Bofur who looked up at the furious dwarf with mild annoyance as he yelled at him, "What's the point? WHAT'S THE POINT? _Easy_ for you to say Mister happy-go-lucky- it is not your brother lost! It is not your brother who might be dead! You are an heartless, shallow dwarf!"

Bofur's smile did not falter for a moment at the accusation, but the tone of his voice was cold as he answered Oin.

"I have to watch my brother slowly lose his mind in the workshop, and see my cousin go crazier with every day that passes. My best friend just sacrificed himself for a plan so stupid and dangerous I want to murder Nori with my bare hands, if it were not for Balin being part of this insanity too. And I do have to share my shift with an obnoxious fool who considers himself brave, if he is grumpy and pouting all day long, pitying himself, and wallowing in his guilt like a pig in the mud! So _do not dare_ to tell me I am a lesser dwarf than you, for my suffering is as great as yours – only I choose to _not_ bother everybody else, playing the righteous fool!"

Oin gaped at Bofur, baffled by the other dwarf's outburst; affronted, after a few monents, he returned to his bed, his face as red as his hair, unsure if he was more ashamed or angered by Bofur's scolding, laying down so his back was facing Bofur. How could he dare! Calling him a fool!

They lay on their beds for a long time, neither of them saying a word, when finally, Oin harrumphed, sounding by far not as indifferent as he had intended to as he asked, "So... What about that game now?"

* * *

Gífli tried to calm himself, smoothing his beard as he waited nervously to be let in, his hands shaking.

Everyday, he had come to see his son, forcing himself to look at what he had done, even if his torn heart could not bear to see his only child lying on his deathbed , growing weaker with every day; but he had to see to the end what he had started, and suffer with his son as long as he lived, and following him into death if he did not.

"You may enter now.", the guard informed him, stepping aside to let the old dwarf pass, not one emotion showing on his face partially hidden by his helmet – but Gifli still shook with fear as he slipped into the dark chambers, afraid his gruesome secret to be know to any dwarf under the mountain now.

When he had been told of the attack on his son, Gifli had congratulated himself, as he had long thought his spell had been worthless, as days had passed without any incident; if only, Efli had started to drink even worse, not even bothering to sober up anymore, shaming his family and people.

But the old dwarf's gleeful joy had withered away upon seeing his son's waxen face, his painful cries of sorrow and regret truthful - no, this was not what he had wished for, what he had read spells and curses all night long!

A broken bone he had in mind – not his son's death, as he mumbled a spell and burnt the hair, pouring wine and water into a bowl. He had not wished for Efli to be _harmed_; he merely wished for his son to change, and for his daughter-in-law to return to the humble, lovely ways she used to be, so their children would grow up happily!

But now, these children sat crying on their bed, mourning for their father, afraid to go to sleep, lest he should pass away unnoticed, and leave them behind alone until the end of times.

Slowly, Gifli pushed the door to the royal bedroom open, his heart racing as he stared at his pale son, lying on the huge bed as still as a statue, causing his father to dread he might be too late, until he saw Efli was breathing - yet.

Dís ever so quietly got up from the bed, her green dress wringled, the crown and all the jewelery gone from her hair. Her golden eyes bright with pain as she whispered to her father-in-law, "I think he is getting better... But the fever- ... Oh please Mahal, do not take him from us!"

Gífli held his sobbing daughter-in-law, feeling tears come to his own eyes at the dwarf woman's deep sorrow.

"The gods surely have not returned you two to the Ered Luin safely, just to now part your love- so do not despair my dear Dís! He will live! … Where are the boys?"

"They finally fell asleep- oh, I should have send them away long, but I- oh, I do not know what to do- I am so _afraid_! So afraid! For however did do this is still- oh Gífli! Oh what shall I do! Who can I still trust but you and Rés?"

Gifli hoped Dís did not feel him flinch at her words, guilt wrenching his heart; he wished to tell her to put him in chains and punish him instead of trusting him, him the one who had started this madness! But not now, not now... He would bring himself to justice- but only when the fate of his son was decided, one way or the other.

"Dís, my dear...Why do you not try to rest some as well? Let me sit with Efli, just for an hour- if you become sick with grief, who will take care of Fili and Kili? You have to think of them too – I am begging you, do rest a bit."

The dwarf woman's face was grey as old snow, and she stubborn shook her words at Gifli's gentle words, protesting vehemently, "I can _not_ leave his side Gifli! He does need me- can you not see? I have to _stay by his side all time_! What if I go and he-"

"Dís, be reasonable! _You will rest and see to your children - now!_ Efli is my son Dís, as you are my daughter now – so, should he wake or move, I will call you! Trust me, my dear... you have to rest!"

Gently, Gifli shoved Dís towards the door, unmerciful urging her to leave as he felt her shake with exhaustion under his touch.

"But- I need to-", the blond woman cried, her tearful eyes fixed on her husband even as her father-in-law closed the door in front of her, cruelly taking advantage of her weary stupor. Confused and lost, Dís stood in front of the door to her own bedroom,wishing to lie down and cry, feeling the weight of the mountains crush and bury her - she felt as sick as if she dying herself, if she was not by Elfi's side; how could she live on without him?

"I am sorry my son... My dear, my only child! How could I ever do this to you!", Efli mumbled as he took his son's hand, lying down next to him so he could whisper in his ear.

"_Forgive your stupid father! I meant to do well, I meant to save you- you were lost, and could not find a way back, you see? I was worried, and angry, and I- Efli, do wake up and tell me, have I been a bad father? I only meant to do good! Tell me!_"

But the wounded dwarf did not stir, his breathing as shallow and even as before.

"Efli! Efli, come back! You are not allowed to leave yet!", Gifli cried, angrily crushing his son's feverish hand in his, tears of regret and frustration running down his face.

"You have to come back and raise your children- and did you not hear? Dís does need you, she wants to be by your side! I had to throw her out even- she still loves you, you stubborn fool! **So come back and be her dwarf!**"

Wait - did not his eyelids move? Gilfi held his breath, praying for his son to wake-up, coaxing him to return, "Elfi, my little boy, _come here- come_, won't you return to your family? To your father? Now is not the time to join your mother, not now – think of all you leave behind! Your wife, your children- did you now always wish to have a daughter too? Come back my beloved little fool- maybe Mahal will give you one, if you and Dís do try and rebuilt your love- do come back!"

The bald dwarf almost shouted with joy, seeing Eflí´s eyelids flutter, the dwarf's lips parting as he moaned painfully.

"**Efli! Efli**! Come, come! I am here – _**will you look at me, will you**_!", Gífli cried, resting his hand on the sick dwarf's head so he would look at him instead of gazing round the room confused.

"..._i..s_...", Eflí croaked, looking past his father, his sight clouded by the fever, "._.. I..s_.."

Gífli put his ear closer to his son's lips, eager to learn what he was in need of, hearing him whisper, " _… di..s... why... di...s._.."

The old dwarf was quick to reassure his son, releasing the grip on his hand relieved, seeing how Eflí had come back to his sense, "Dís! Sure my dear son! She will be here in a moment, she will be here-_ son_? **_Son_**! What is the matter with you!"

The grey-haired dwarf's eyes suddenly went dark as he started to shiver, clutching his father's vest with frightening strength, croaking, "_No...N...Not! … why- …. not **her**_!"

Gífli tried to calm his son, pushing him down as he struggled, startled by the mindless fear in the grey-haired dwarf's eyes, who seemed to be going wild with the fever.  
"Elfi, boy, **get a hold yourself**! Lay still- you are very sick my boy, lay still! What are you _talking_ about, are you out your mind-"

The bald dwarf stopped dead, his hold on Efli suddenly gone as his hands went limp with shock.

"God... what have I done...", he mumbled, breaking out in cold sweat, feeling as if a blindfold had been lifted of his eyes.

"No... not your Dís... not, let it not be her... Oh gods..."

Horrified, Gifli looked at the door, recalling where he had send his daughter-in-law.

"No... no, let it not be true... _**No**_! _**Fili! Kili!**_"

* * *

Oin washed his hands for the seventh time, but still felt dirtied- his skin was raw and cracked from the cold water, but he could not stop scrubbing himself.

_He seems angry, and shouts, stomping his feet as he reads about his crime – but then, suddenly he smiles, as he recognizes him._

Maybe if he used hot water, the feeling would get away?

_He had laughs, for a long time- and his whole court does laugh with him, even if they did not know what is so amusing about the prisionor and his deed.  
_

He winced as he rubbed the soap onto his sore skin, but continued rubbing his hands and dipping them into the basin again and again.

_At last, he triumphantly declares the sentence, and thought can not hear a word, he knows he will not die tonight – and is afraid._

The soapy grey water did not change its color as it was mixed with blood, and did not clear up as salty water was added to it-

Oin yelled he felt a heavy hand slap onto his shoulder, knocking the basin to the ground as he tried to run and hide, scared senseless. But he could not escape from the heavy grip on his shoulder, and helplessly found he was held in place and force to turn round, closing his eyes as he was sure to face another guard, either drunk and ordering him to lead him to 'the place', or drunk and wanting to beat him up or do worse-

Oin stared disbelieving at the other dwarf, whose lips were moving rapidly, a huge grin on his face. No- had he gone not only deaf, but mad too? Shocked, Oin tried to step backwards, to get away from this frightening sight.

"But- what- I – what-", the grey-haired dwarf stammered, shaking as if he was actually seeing a ghost.

"No- it can't be - D-Dwalin! Why- What under the mountains – what are you doing here!"


	58. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 6

_Yay, finally, got another chapter done -tomorrow or sunday see the next one!  
Posting schedule will be a bit better next week; chapter 59 should fix some bugs with the Curse-Arc hopefully, 63-65 gets action and the children! ;)  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Mister Balin, would you like some bread? It's still good.", Dori looked at his companion with worried eyes, and hoped this time, the white-haired dwarf would eat bit, for he would not carry on much longer without any nourishment.

Balin shook his head slowly, not even looking up to thank the younger dwarf, who had taken a great risk smuggling the bread into their quarters.  
Since Dwalin had left, Dori had moved in with the white-haired dwarf, as had Bofur and Gloin; Nori, Bombur and Bifur shared the other room, as the group was slowly breaking apart over Dwalin's decision.

Dori lay the bread onto the bed next to Balin, and stood unsure in front of his companion, at a loss on what to do with the depressed dwarf. In the five days since Dwalin left, Balin seemed to have shrunken, as he sat on his bed disinterested after finishing his shift, not talking to anybody, listlessly waiting for the next day to come, to work, sleep or just stare at the ground and wait.

"Uh, Mister Balin...", the grey-haired dwarf started, but the persistent silence made him too nervous to think of anything proper, to start a conversation.

"Uh... should I leave- I uh.. I will leave- uh- is there anything you need?"

Balin tiredly looked up, dark rings under his eyes, his voice barely audible as he asked, "_Are there... any news_?"

Dori almost sighed with relief, and eagerly threw any relevant and irrelevant information he could think of at Balin to get him interested in his surroundings, "Oh, there are many many news indeed Mister Balin! Uh, so- Mister Nori is fairly positive that his estimation of the state of mind of the guards is correct, and at least one third of them is willing and planning to protest against Lord Fain if enraged any further. Mister Bofur has eavesdropped some slave laborers in the mines talking about sabotage, and though their plan might not be as effective as they consider it, their efforts surely are welcome. Uh-"

"... Do you have ... news about Dwalin?"

The young dwarf bit his lips and fidgeted, not thinking it wise to talk about Dwalin at all, thinking information about him would return Balin to his grieving stupor again; but under the pleadingly look of the elder dwarf, Dori found he could not tell a lie, but had to tell, for the sake of his companion.

"Mister Nori has bribed the guards, and got some information... Dwalin did get accepted into the – the .. the chambers, and- he is... doing...", the young dwarf blushed severely and did not continue his reports, the details of what his companion might be doing in Fain's breeding chambers too painful and horrid to him. Such a disgusting, vile things!

Balin frowned at him for a moment, wondering why Dori was stammering and blushing; but then he understood that the young dwarf thought he had to spare him the details, and not mention the unspeakable things Dwalin had volunteered for- ha! As if he had not come up with the plan himself!  
Balin almost smiled, explaining, "Dori, it is alright... I do know that Dwalin is sharing his bed with men's daughters now- so he may talk to these poor creatures and unsettle them, working as to ruin Fain's plan- and I do not like the thought of him doing such - _things_ anymore than you do, young friend."

The young dwarf looked at Balin unhappy, and wished he knew words of consolation, to express his deep feelings of regret for Dwalin's choice – but Dori was afraid he would end up speaking his mind, referring to Balin's brother as what he was - a monster.

Balin looked sullenly at the three things Dwalin had left behind – an old blanket, a small comb, and a badly carved figurine.

"Funny, to think I came here to free him- and now he is doing whatever he can to free _me_... Life is not fair to us dwarfs, it never is- our gods seem to be a bit lazy nowadays..."

"But Mister Balin! You mustn't take the god's name in vain!", Dori cried shocked, covering his ears, which caused the other dwarf to laugh out, Balin's humor returning some.

"Ah, young Dori, why not do take the god's name? Maybe he _will_ hear us then, and see what is going on? I surely would not mind of the mountains came down on me as a punishment, as long as Fain and his creatures would be buried alive too! Ha! No, the gods are not listening Dori, they are not... Why did they let my little brother get caught? Why did they let Thorin- no, I should not speak like this, you are right my friend. Even if I do not anger the gods, I might betray secrets in my wrath and forever be sorry - now Dori, do not be silly! You may listen to me again, for I shall not speak of any gods anymore."

Dori uncovered his ears slowly, a wary look on his face; he felt childish, but he could not help himself wishing to not listen to anymore unpleasant things, "Mister Balin, do you _promise_ to not insult the gods anymore?"

"Yes Dori, I do promise... I guess it would do me some good, believing into Mahal's everpresent will? I wonder how Dwalin never had any doubts about the god's doing in all his life, and always believed into Durin's path – but well, he had always been a different kind of dwarf than me.", Balin mused, picking up the small wooden figurine, turning it carefully in his fingers, wondering - was it a dwarf women, or a daughter of men he was looking at?

"Mister Dwalin is a follower?", the grey-haired dwarf asked surprised, as he had not considered the tall brute to even know his creators name, let along to follow the path.

Balin smiled, knowing Dwalin's simple but constant devotion to the gods, "Oh, he is_ very _religious, and does follow the rules strictly – more strictly than I ever would! How to eat, what to wear, when to ask the stars and moon for guidance, how to pray, when to have children and how many – the talks we had when we were younger on that topic! No wonder my hair is all white now! As I know him, he never strayed from Durin's path - even if he does not follow any straight path otherwise. My my, he always was a odd one, my dear little brother... I wonder if I'll ever understand what does go on in that thick head of his all my life."

Dori shook his head like an obstinate donkey, protesting, "But – if Mister Dwalin is following the path as righteous as you say- how could he _possibly_ agree to sleep with a _women_?!"

Balin shrugged, dimly recalling his own horror at first learning about the half-dwarfs Fain was breeding – and learning that his brother had long been considered for the breeding program, but had refused for Bofur's sake before, who had neither been considered for breeding, nor could stand the thought of a dwarf and a woman sharing a bed.

No, Balin could not offer any justification for his brother's choice, for he himself could not phantom what Dwalin's heart was like – was it duty that made him go to the breeding chambers – or daring bravery? Hatred for Fain? Or... did he even suffer as his companions would from such atrocity?

"I would not know, Dori, I would not know... But ... I think Dwalin always like men -as friends! He loved to play with their children whenever father took us to town to trade, when we lived first in Dunland, the smoke was still rising from the Erebor in the distance...

Ha, the fights Dwalin would get into in the villages and towns! Father would be livid with him, seeing how he had ruined another shirt or lost a tooth – but he always gained a man boy as a friend afterward, strange as it seems. Men and men's children are hard to understand! Dwalin always got along with men, and they liked him, as he was very tall for a dwarf even as a boy, and easily passed as one of their children – if not for his beard, ha! Oh, yes, believe it or not- he once tried to shave himself! Cutting of his beard, as he wanted to go to a feast, hahah! Father did beat him within an inch of his life when he saw his smooth face!"

Balin wiped the tears from his eyes, vividly remembering how his father had chased Dwalin five times round the settlement, before catching him finally and spanking him in front of everybody. How Dwalin had protested! And ran off again the next day to play...

"No, my little brother truly was an odd dwarf – oh, why, he once even fell for one of their girls I think? When he was ten, and he wandered for days to her house bringing her flowers – ha, how father would spank him whenever he found him sneaking off to see her!"

Balin laughed and shook his head disbelieving, the memories of his youth coming to his mind like water running down a stream, "The pains it took father to explain the difference between men and dwarfs to Dwalin! Haha! He was so religious, and so convinced of Durin's path, he thought men were just taller dwarfs, for he thought Mahal had created _all_ creatures- my what a funny boy he was!"

Balin sadly put the figurine back onto the stone serving as a desk to him, recalling how carefree and happy his brother had been once, and how changed he was now.

"But after the battle for Moria, and father's death, all dwarfs under Thrain left Dunland, for many years to come ... Ah, I remember how Dwalin wept for days as he was losing all his friends at once - but why, I do not recall he ever mentioned them again? And he lived a god life in the Ered Luin, didn't he? The two of us together, working in the mines and serving the king - until Thrain went insane, and most of us choose to returned to Dunland, except me and a handful of others-"

"Why did Dwalin leave, when you stayed back?", Dori wondered, his eyes wide as he listened to the story of Fundin's sons.

"Why, I do not know – but maybe, Dwalin never was as happy in the Ered Luin as I assumed? What must it have felt like to Dwalin, returning 'home'? As he rode through the towns we used to visit as a child, after more than fifty years - with all his men friends old or gone? Was that why he set forth, and rode through the world all by himself, and never seeked the company of other dwarfs all those years? Oh Dori - I do not know my brother anymore than you do know him I'm afraid!"

The young dwarf listened without saying a word to Balin's lamentations, and somehow pitied him as he heard the tale of his brother, sympathic of his suffering; for Nori was a thief and a criminal, but at least he was a dwarf whose heart belong to his race only! But Dori could not answer Balin's questions - just like he could not understand how a dwarf might follow the path of Durin, and still care for men to the point of love.

Seeing the hatred in Dori's eyes, Balin regretted telling his brother's past and secrets to the young dwarf, who seemed to now despise Dwalin even more. But then again - how could he possibly blame the young courtier, who hated a tainted stranger, if not even he himself was sure he could love his own brother anymore like he used to, when they finally would be reunited?

* * *

"What do you think you're doing?!", Nori cried annoyed as Bifur emptied his pockets, again pouring sand onto the floor and spreading it with his hands. For two days now, the black-haired dwarf had been carrying sand into the quarters he, Bombur and Nori shared, carefully sneaking a handful at a time out of the forge. The sand was there used to put out minor fires, as pouring water onto the flames damaged the wood and iron works used for machines even more than the fire itself did; but what Bifur intended to do with the useless sand in their quarters, except littering everything, was beyond Nori.

"Are you crazy? Why are you doing now- Get that sand out of here! It is-"

The brown-haired dwarf stopped and stared at the sand at his feet fascinated, then quickly kneeled down to study the lines in the sand, as he finally understood his companion's intention.

Nori often forgot the toymaker was not dumb but merely mute, and saw more than anybody else in the company, for his mouth was not busy keeping up with his eyes – but not one of them took the time to make sense of his grunts and gestures, as they considered it too frustrating to stare at his hands and guess all day long.

As Nori watched, Bifur skillfully drew lines into the sand with a thin metal rod, creating a detailed image, which became more and more familiar with each part added.

"The water works!", the brown-haired thief cried out, grinning broadly as Bifur nodded, and pointed at a part of the complicated machinery Nori had not seen before.

Bifur was a skilled worker, and could fix almost anything given to him, working hard and in silence until it was good as new. The guards considered the wild-looking dwarf the best choice for sensitive repairs, as they thought him crafty when it came to machines, but as unintelligent as his words in any other aspect.  
Little did they know that Bifur was the most dangerous dwarf to choose out of the dozens of slaves at hand - for the black-haired dwarf quickly did learn the secrets of the huge water works powering the forge and hammers and supplying the colony with fresh water, and patiently waited to use his knowledge against Fain and his steady growing army.

"What is this?", Nori wondered, as he saw Bifur add some wavy lines and small figures, when the two dwarfs heard a group dwarfs approach – guards, possibly headed for their quarters!

Before the brown-haired dwarf could make a move, the toymaker had already destroyed his lines with a swift motion of his arm, spreading the sand until all traces were gone as the guards marched past their chambers.

Nori offered Bifur his hand to help him up from the floor, smiling approvingly as he patted his shoulder, wiping the sand from his clothes, joking, "This is amazing! You are not as slow as I thought - why, I think you are the smartest of all of us! I guess should listen to you more often friend!"

Bifur rolled his eyes at him and made a gesture Nori had never seen before; but he was fairly sure the black-haired dwarf had just called him a stupid moron, a blockhead _and _an idiot at once.

"Hey! Will you take that back!"

But the black-haired dwarf just grinned and patted Nori on the back, whistling happily as he headed for the workshops to start his shift, looking out for other things most dwarf did never notice, which might be their downfall one day.

* * *

Thorin felt dizzy, as the air became more stale with every breath, and he wondered if he should not use the last of his remaining will to life to try freeing himself again – but what good would he do if he moved? He would only cause the rocks to shift and crush his body to death! He felt for the knife lying in front of him, his right hand resting on it constantly- should he just end his life and misery now? Why wait? But he had to make it out of these mountains alive, Thorin desperately reminded himself. He had to get to Daín alive, or his people would be lost-

Thorin more heard than felt dirt and small stones fall onto him, as his body was numb from cold and pressure- no, had the ground started to shift by itself again?

He cursed his luck, and buried his face in the crook of his arm as to suffocated from the fine dust, even if his end was inevitable now.

More and more dirt was falling down, but it was not the debris itself which had gotten into motion causing this Thorin heard – no, something else was causing this!

A strange, muffled noise came from above- digging! The dwarf would have shouted with joy if he could – somebody was freeing him! Somebody was digging through the boulders and dirt to free him from his prison?

Hearing scratching and scraping noises right above his head, Thorin clutched his knife, and readied himself to fight to his dying breath – if he would have one more, as sand and dust threatened to fill his lungs. Who would be first to kill him, the dwarf wondered - the dirt crushing him, or the hungry Warg digging for his prey?


	59. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 7

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Dís! Do not do it! Please! DO NOT DO IT!", Gifli cried, bursting into the room screaming on top of his lungs, his white beard standing up in impossible angles, his eyes wide with fear.

The dwarf woman stared at her father-in-law confused for a moment, sitting at her sons' beside to watch over their sleep.

"Gifli, what is the matter with you- _no_, do not tell me- Efli-_ is he_...?"

Dís became white as a sheet, clamping her hands over her mouth to not cry and startle her children in their sleep, tears rising to her eyes as she feared her husband's end had come whilst she was not by his side.

But the old dwarf just made deprecating gesture with his hands and shook his head, all worry about his son forgotten for the moment, "Na, he is fine Dís, he is fine, even awake- do not worry- but the children? Are the children alright! _What have you done to Fili and Kili_?!"

The blond dwarf woman felt a heavy weight drop from her heart, hearing her husband was still alive- but then she frowned, and indignantly asked the old dwarf, who tried to get between her and the children whilst eying her suspiciously, "Gifli, Fili and Kili are_ fine_, and they will be even better, hearing their father is awake- but tell me, what are you implying, speaking of what I did to do my sons!?"

Gifli was long used to his daughter-in-law's demanding, sharp voice, and did not feel as compelled as most dwarfs did to answer her, as he examined his grandsons, wondering if their breathing was not a bit too deep for sleep only – poison maybe? Or a wound not visible, a curse? Who knew what that woman was capable of under the spell! He had to get the children away from her, without arousing her suspicion!

"GIFLI! What is the matter with you- will you leave my sons alone! They are finally asleep- _you will not wake them now!_", Dís hissed, her golden eyes blazing with fury as the old dwarf went about to uncover the children. Gifli slapped her hand away as she tried to pull him away from the children, his rough behavior startling Dís.

"Gifli- why – why did you hit me? What is happening to you – you do not seem to be yourself! _Get away from my sons_!"

"**YOU** are the one who needs to stay away from them!", Gifli cried, only lowering his voice when he saw Fili stir, frowning in his sleep as if he was hearing them argue.

"_**Why**- what are you talking about_?, "Dís hushed her voice as well, and reached out to stroke her eldest son's forehead, bewildered when her father-in-law blocked her hand.

"Gifli! Stop that- what is the matter with you!"

The old dwarf did not answer her, but instead took her hand and tried to drag her out of the children's bedroom, keeping a close eye on the dwarf woman as she to follow tried to free herself from his grip, irked by the bald dwarf's cold resentment against her, without any explanation. Had he not been kind to her just an hour ago? Had he not cried by her side and comforted her?

"Let go of me Gifli! Let go- or I will call for the guards to take you away!"

Her fearful threat truly caused Gifli to let go of Dís, who knew nobody would wait to hear his side of the story, when it was the queen's word against his – but he had to get her away from the children! And cover his tracks, as it was bad enough his son knew about his doings already!

He tried to coax the stubborn dwarf woman, his tone suddenly gentle and carry, even letting go of her hand to prove he meant to be kind, "Dís, come, why- why don't you come with me for a walk? It will do you some good-"

The blond dwarf woman backed away from him, glancing at her children, fearing her father-in-law was losing his mind, his true intentions unclear to her – but then, of course! Dís gasped, pointing a shaky finger at the bald dwarf, "Gifli, why are you trying to get me away from my children? Are you- are _you_ the **traitor**? Did you harm Efli- _your own son_? And now you are try to take my sons too?! **GUA**-_uhhhh!uhh_!"

"_SHUT UP! SHUT UP_!", Gifli yelled at her, covering his daughter-in-law's mouth to prevent her from calling the guards, his mind racing as he pressed the struggling dwarf woman against the wall.

He had not planned to tell anyone else but his son about his doings, as he knew what fate awaited him, if his trespass became known – surely nobody would care for his noble intentions, or his careful plan, but only see a dwarf who had dabbled with magic, and lost control! He would be send to exile, or buried alive, or burnt on a stake- no, he could not tell a word of this to Dís!

But - how else was he to save his grandchildren from the evil he had conjured?

"Dís, hear me out- I know this may sound worse than it is – but- **_STOP STRUGGLING WOMAN_**! - but you mustn't stay close to your children! Do you hear me? Let me have them, I will take them to a_ safer_ place – no, listen, I am _not _the traitor- well, maybe _I am_ the one to blame, and I will face my sentence for what I did - but only when this is over – for what I did, I did do for love! For you, and Efli, and Fili and Kili! You were falling apart, your family was falling apart – I needed to do something!"

Gilfi looked at Dís sadly, sounding truly apoplectic; but the dwarf woman only stared at him with horrified eyes, scared for her own life and the life of her children, held captive by a mad dwarf.

"I _knew_ that if there was _something_ to happen – I mean, just a _minor_ accident, or a sickness, or a small tiny demon – then both of your surely would see the error of your ways, and return to each other and care for each other and- well... So I – I got Efli Ironeyes' old spell book - from his cave, and- you do understand, don't you? You know that family is everything- that nothing is as important as ones family, don't you? You do understand what I had to do?"

The old dwarf's hand still covering her mouth, so Dís just shook her head slowly, too shocked by the madness she was facing to fully comprehend what she was being told.

"You do _not_ understand- **_why_**? Oh, please, Dís, I only asked for a spell to hurt a tiny, tiny bit Efli – I thought, if he broke a leg, or hit his head hard, you two would care for each other again - as you used to! In our lovely Dunland, yes?! But everything went wrong! Maybe the spell was not good- or too powerful? I do not know! I swear to all the gods, all I wanted was to _save_ our family!"

Gilfi let go of Dís, and wiped tears from his eyes, sobbing pitiful. He wept for what he had done, and for what would follow, his head hanging low as he pitied himself and his poor family.

"Dís, I am sorry.. Please, do forgive me! I only -I only wanted to..."

"I know what you wanted to do, I know..."

Instead of soothing the old dwarf as he had though the dwarf woman would in her patient, indulgent way, Gífli suddenly felt a small hand hit him in the face with an unexpected might, fuelled by the wrath of a mother and wife.

"Dís! Why-"

For a moment, the old dwarf was afraid the dwarf woman was possessed again by the magic he had conjured, and would now be trying to kill him- but looking at Dís told him her fury did not stem from a spell as he spat out the one question still left to be answered.

"Gífli.. What. Happened. To. My. Husband!"

The old man looked around as to see if he might take cover somewhere, or run to safety, regarding his own life not done yet; but he knew he could not flee from a queen's ire in her own kingdom. So he took a deep breath, and meekly answered to the angry dwarf woman,

"... You?"

* * *

Thorin tried to shake the dirt and stones from his head, coughing as he breathed in the fine dust swirling in the faint sunlight.

On top of the rock slide, the Warg was going berserk, howling for his pack to follow him into the depths, if he was not trying to dig another shaft down to his prey, to finally sink his teeth into warm flesh. But the Warg pack lingering high above at the rim did not dare to climb down the sink hole to join their wounded leader, seeing there was no path leading down but a short and lethal fall.

For months, the Wargs had been turning onto each other as they found no other meat in the mountains anymore, even their formers masters hunting them as the hunger in the mountains worsened. The dwarfs of the Grey Mountains also had become to strong for them to attack, their city an unconquerable fortress – it was only lonely, straying dwarfs like the one trapped under the rocks upon which they could feed these days, as no other living creature was to be found in the woods and abandoned mines.

Thorin impatiently waited for the beast to exhaust itself some more before, he would try to crawl up through the shaft and fight the lonely Warg, so he might climb out of the sink hole and continue his traveling to the east. He did not for an instant bother to think about how he might die before he even could swing the knife against the beast when he came out of the shaft, or how the creature's efforts might bury him again - for these dark thoughts were useless, and only lessened his will to fight, for they made him consider any fight useless, his body begging to lay down and fight no more already.

Early in the morning, the Warg had almost managed to reach him, his huge paws bloody from digging through the debris – only a huge boulder had saved the dwarf king from his certain death, as he took the first breath of fresh air in hours just to find himself almost face to face with a Warg.  
The limbs of the Warg were not long enough to reach deep into the niche where Thorin was in, as the beast had for hours tried to snap and reach for the dwarf, bumping his head against the boulder, one time scratching the black-haired dwarf's right arm, but not reaching his prey for good. Eventually, the Warg had given up, and tried to dig another shaft, next to the first one, whilst Thorin worked hard to free his legs, carefully moving forward towards the light, listening for the Warg's movements above.

For hours he had lain in the dust, his ears hurting from the strain of listening for any sound. Now, the weak summer sun was be setting, and was forcing Thorin to make his move as he had to fight the beast in day light – if he wished to have even the slightest chance killing the Warg in his weakened state, with only the knifeas a weapon against an eight foot tall beast raging with hunger.

"For Balin, for Dori, for Dwalin, for Bofur, for Bifur, for Bombur, for Oin, for Gloin – for my family, for my people!", Thorin whispered under his breath as he started to ascend towards the fading light, looking for proper footholds in the narrow shaft, grimly promising to those whom he had left behind that he would make it out of these mountains alive - for their sake, and for the sake of his revenge against Fain!


	60. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 8

_One-part chapter, a bit short :) Next chapter wednesday! Yay! Getting somewhere!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

What day would be tomorrow?

Thorin stared up at the clouded, dark sky, shaking from more than just the cold of the night. Would there be sunlight? Warmth? Hope?

The Warg lay dead on the bottom of the shaft it had dug, it's pack howling forlorn at the rim of the pit, smelling their leader's dead body, but still did not dare to descend into the sink hole, scared and frantic running back and forth.

It had taken him longer than he had expected to climb the shaft, dusk falling when he pulled himself out of his prison, his vision blurry from the exhausting ascend and the dirt in his eyes. His sword arm was aching, and Thorin feared the wound had opened again as he found he could not raise his hand anymore - how was he to fight the Warg, left-handed and with a small blade, soon blind in the dark and helpless?

He could heard the beast had stopped digging, and from the deep growling echoing from the second shaft the Warg was digging, the black-haired dwarf knew he had been detected, his hastily choosen hideout proving useless against a creature able to rely on smell as well as on sight.

"_For my people! For my family!_", Thorin muttered to himself, using his left hand to free the knife from his cramped right which now even refused to open at his will. He steadied himself, reading to run towards the creature when it jumped out of the shaft, hoping to plunge his knife into the beast's heart as it came for him, using the effect of surprise.

But would the knife be long enough to reach the Warg's heart? Looking down at the pitiful short blade, the dwarf king shook his head- no, there was no time! He cleared his head from all doubts, as the beast scrabbled from the shaft, it's paws leaving scratch marks on the rock as it tried to get to the surface, the tone of it's growling changing as it set eyes on the dwarf raising from behind a boulder, standing ready to fight to his dying breath, a look of madness and despair in his blue eyes.

"**FOR MY PEOPLE**!", Thorin cried as he ran towards the beast, his heart pounding like mad as the Warg came for him, accelerating, foam dripping from his snout.

The dwarf's mind was focused on the danger which came towards him with frightening speed only, the Warg flexing it's muscles to leap at him - therefore, the mountain king was not aware of the treacherous ground he was running upon, when he suddenly lost his footing, falling forward onto crushed stones and sand as he slipped on grit.

Instead of trying to get up, Thorin tried to turn onto his back, freezing with horror as he heard the beast howl triumphantly only some feet away of him, seeing the Warg vaulting over a boulder, sure of it's prey, his yellow eyes bright with hunger and madness.

Thorin yelled and tried to roll away, losing his knife as he hit his head against a rock, laying on his back helpless for a second, the throbbing pain in his head deafening him. Blindly he fumbled for the knife as the last light faded, desperate to defend himself against the Warg which would crush him any instant-

But in his mindless greed, the Warg had failed to judge the distance for his final leap, yelping surprised when he did not land on tpo of his prey, or onto solid ground - but found itself at the rim of the first narrow shaft it had dug through the debris, quickly losing it's balance as it tried to leap forwarf to safety, the stone crumbling under it's heavy paws.

His head swimming from the hit, Thorin stared at the greyish form lurching in the setting shadows in wonder, the Warg's fearful howl only a faint whimper to him as he vanished from his sight. Dazed, he sat up, his left hand feeling for the lost knife in the dark. When he had found it, the black-haired dwarf dared to push himself up against the rock behind him, stumbling forward carefully, feeling the ground with his foot each time before taking another step.

In the dark the shaft was barely distinguishable from the black boulders surrounding it, and Thorin almost fell down too, hollering as his foot did not touch ground for a heart-stopping moment, quickly taking two steps backwards, shaking with fear. For long, he stood close to the shaft, motionless istening for any noise coming from the Warg, as he fear the creature to still be alive, for it had not been a deep fall - it was only ten, twelve feet to the bottom, barely enough to kill a dwarf if h was lucky.

But nothing stirred in the darkness, as the dwarf king found himself drifting off to sleep where he stood, his body and mind weary, demanding rest and care.  
The knife still in his left hand, Thorin sunk to the ground, staring at the dark sky above, waiting for the night to end so he could see what lay in front of him.

The sky was clouded, and except for the occasional howling of the Warg pack, not one noise filled the cold air; Thorin wondered if he ever would see a living dwarf again, or perish in the Grey Mountains.

What day would be tomorrow?

Sunlight or rain? Life or death? Would he find a way out of the sink hole? What about food, about water?

Thorin pulled the torn coat closer to his body, staring up at the sky to keep himself from falling asleep as he lay on his back, his left hand resting on his chest, clutching the small, mostly useless blade given to him by Dror. Old, cowardly dwarf, hiding his son in the darkness, disregarding his people and their lot – the mountain king felt nothing but contempt for him, who should have come with him to the Iron Hills to warn Dain. Together, they may have made it- but Dror thought the deed could not be accomplished by anything but an army.

"No... I will not fail Dror... I will fulfill my duty... I will protect them... I will avenge them... I will..."

His grip on the knife loosened as he fell asleep, and slowly slid of his chest, clattering as it hit the rocks; but the mountain king did not stir in his deep, exhausted sleep, his mind dark as the night surrounding him.


	61. First Moon of Summer 2873, Part 9

_YAY! Got it done! Getting somewhere! Arc is headed straight for climax and finish! YAY! Soon some Dain, hehehehe!  
_

_And do not worry, there will be no nsfw upgrade - story stays in same rating! :)_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ First Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Good evening, how are you?", the dwarf mumbled, quickly glancing about the small room, to see if they be under guard. He could not tell if there were hidden doors or holes so they could keep an eye on him, but he had to take a chance, one or or the other.

The tall woman quickly bowed to him, answering humbly, the long iron chain connecting her foot to the wall rattling softly, "Good evening Master. How is master finding my quarters?"

Dwalin shrugged, unsure what to reply; the room was barren and small, but tidy – a simple bed, a wash bowl, two lanterns hanging from the walls, and one lonely, uncomfortable looking chair in a corner. Well, it would be sufficient for his needs - but he did not envy the woman for her quarters.

"They are... good. Well- but what is your name?", the dwarf asked, looking interested at the woman front of him; despite his enormous height, she still was almost as tall she him even when kneeling - and her frame was almost as wide too. Broad shoulders and hips - just what Fain was looking for Dwalin mused.  
She had maybe once been a beauty in the eyes of men, as her face still spoke of the beauty she once possessed; but spending years under the mountain had taken their toll, as her face was too pale and her eyes dull, her body unshapely from carrying too many children.

"Number forty-two.", was the prompt reply, uttered so softly Dwalin almost failed to hear it.

"No, silly creature- what is your _name_?", the dwarf cried annoyed, shaking his head at her stubbornness - couldn't she see he was here to help her?

"Forty-two.", she repeated meekly, cowering before the young dwarf, not daring to lift her eyes from the floor even as the dwarf stepped closer and took her hand to pull her up.

Looking up at the woman who was now towering him, Dwalin noticed surprised that her long black hair was done in braids - complex, long braids, interwoven with silver and golden bands. It was a hair-do any proper dwarf woman would proudly carry, and a hair-do any proper dwarf man would love to undo when night fell... Fain truly had seen to many concessions being made to his breeding dwarfs, hadn't he? Dwalin scowled disgusted, his hatred for the Lord of Grey Mountains becoming worse with every step he took in his kingdom.

He scowled at the woman, demanding again, "What is your name? I know forty-two is no name a man father would give to his daughter!"

The woman flinched, and wanted to sink back to the floor, beseeching the dwarf, "I have no father, Master! My name is forty-two, as Lord Fain has given me this name."

The tall dwarf huffed annoyed, scratching his head as he remembered his brother's warning, his anger fading as he saw the dangerous error of his too straight forward approach. He had to be more careful, or his own stubbornness would ruin their plan – and bring painful a death to him and all those he cared for.

Patiently, Dwalin explained himself to the black-haired woman, "You do not be _afraid_ of me, stubborn, stupid forty-two. Well, see - I am Dwalin, do you understand? _Dwa-lin_ – hear me? And you do not have to be afraid of me, number forty-two, or whatever you call yourself."

For the first time, the woman looked down at the dwarf, her blue eyes dull, but not longer scared as she nodded and slowly repeated after him, "Dwa-lin... Master Dwalin. If you insist, I shall not be afraid."

The young dwarf smirked, and shook his head, more amused than exasperated though at her stubborness, "Well, that is a start as good as any... Now, come lay with me, and I shall tell you some nice story you might not have ever heard before... A really nice story, of how you never will have to be afraid again soon..."

* * *

He could feel the mattress sinking in where his visitor had sat down, and from the scrooping from her dress, he knew who had come to see him – to finish what she had failed at her first attempt not doubt!  
Efli tried to keep his breathing even, as to not betray himself, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way how to save himself from her madness.

"Efli, I know you are awake my dear. Why don't you look at me...?"

The dwarf man sighed, and opened his eyes, looking at his wife's sad face, wondering if she had killed his father too- hadn't he promised to keep Dís from coming back to him? And from his sons?

Had she hurt them? But her white silk dress was wrinkled, but spotless –and a cruel mockery to Efli, who knew how tainted his wife was inside.

Dís felt tears coming to her eyes again, her husband's hostility hurting her; so Gífli's words were true, and she had been the one who hurt Efli, almost killing him?  
But it had not been her! Never! It had been merely her body! Oh, his hatred was not just!

"Efli, my dearest- I have to- I did not-"

The dwarf man held up his hand, interrupting his wife before she could go on any further, "Dís, I _know_ what you did do, and whilst I do not know why I yet live-"

"I never meant to hurt you! I could not _ever._.."

Efli's voice was gentle but cold as he finished her sentence, "Kill me?"

"**NO**! Never!", Dís cried, reaching out for her husband, but refraining from touching him, as she saw him flinch and shy away from her, his face becoming more pale as his movement caused him pain.

"Efli, love of my life- please, do listen to me! It was not _me_ who did this- I was _possessed_! Your father- he dabbled in magic- he cursed me!"

The grey-haired dwarf man sneered, shaking his head in disbelief, "Dís, do not tell me lies! I know my father would not ever so much as look at a magic rune – not after what happened to his friendwhom he named me for, not after what happened in Hell! He is a fool at times - but no moron!I will not listen to one word of what you say! Send me back to Dunland if you wish to, or kill me now- but do not insult my father, blaming him for your deeds!"

The dwarf woman's face became sad and bitter, hearing how her husband would choose to believe his father rather than her; had they not share a life together? Did he not know her soul anymore?

"Efli, I do see why you will not believe my words – but please! I _do_ speak the truth! Talk to your father, and he will tell you the truth- I shall have him brought here immediately!"

"**What have you done to my father**!", Efli asked sharply, biting his lips until they turned white as the pain in his side grew worse.

Dís tried to defend herself against her husband's accusation, feeling her temper rise at his stubbornness, "**I** did not do anything to _him_! I merely had him locked up in my quarters, where he may do no harm to anybody – and he is doing fine, except for the enormous guilt he feels, for causing you harm and me grief."

"And how am I to know- if I talk to him- that you do not threaten him, to speak as you wish? How can I trust you still?", Efli inquired, closing his eyes, sweating despite being cold, fighting the pain to not lose consciousness, wishing to hear her answer before losing himself.

"I …", Dís tried to think of anything which might redeem her, which might show her husband it truly was her talking, and that she was speaking the truth – but where to start, when all trust was gone? What was there still to say?

"I .. I do not _know_..."

Efli almost smiled, hearing his wife sound as insecure as when they first met; now she sounded so much more than the Dís he knew. Her, the lovely, homely wife he had married - not the queen now ruling the Ered Luin in her brother's stead!

"Maybe, you are speaking the truth... But what of it? … _what of it_...", the dwarf man muttered, sinking into an exhausted sleep, losing his fight against the pain even as he longed to continue talking to his wife. For if she was telling the truth- and his father was to blame- what would they do then?

"Efli? Dearest?", Dís asked, gently resting her hand on her husband's feverish forehead, reproaching herself for wearing him out when he still was healing.  
Would he forgive her when he awoke again? Would he believe her?

Lost in thought, she wiped the sweat of her husband's brow, worrying about the future of her marriage and of her father-in-law, too absorbed so she did not hear the at first soft, then heavy knocking at the door, jumping with fright as the head of the guard suddenly saluted in front of her, who had in vain trying to get her attention for minutes.

"Queen Dís, we have most splendid news!", the tall dwarf exclaimed beaming, quickly hushing his voice as the dwarf woman gave him a withering look, seeing the victim of the crime he was investigating was sleeping.

"_Forgive me_! But- Queen Dís, I had to tell you immediately - we caught the assassin!"

"What?", Dís cried out shocked, her face turning as white as her sleeping husband's.

The guard did not seem to notice the dwarf woman's distress, or mistook her outcry as one of joy, proudly explaining, "We found the very knife your husband has been stabbed with, and there is still blood on it- it was hidden under the suspect's bed, just as it read in the unsigned note we got! We are now bringing him to the dungeons, and I _personally_ will see him locked up and guarding all times! You may rest peacefully now my Queen – there is no danger threatening you below the mountains anymore!"

Dís head was swimming, the horrible mistake making her swoon.

"Who- who is it?"

"Ifur, son of Bifur – well, we suspected him of being a rebel for quite some time now, ha! Looks like we were right all along!", the head of guard laughed, congratulating himself to his good work.

Dís shook her head, her hands shaking, her eyes wide with fear, whispering in shock, "No, no... this is ... wrong...so wrong!"

* * *

Thorin did not wish to continue eating, but he knew he had to, for this would probably be the last food he would get for weeks; but the Warg tasted as bad as it smelt, even when roasted until the meat turned black.

The smell of its leader's flesh was driving the pack wild, and the looking up, dwarf wondered how he was to get out of the pit alive and continue his way east; for even if he managed to climb the impossible steep stone walls, he would be torn apart within seconds by the hungry beasts awaiting him.

Fighting nausea, Thorin stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth, forcing himself to chew and swallow it. He could carry some meat with him for a day, or two before it turned bad; but there was no time to dry the meat, and not enough wood among the debris surrounding him to smoke it.

Watching the shadows wander and become longer whilst he ate, Thorin decided to spent one more night in the sink hole, as the ascent would be impossible during the night; he would need good light to find any footholds in the smooth walls leading straight up, or he could crack his head on a rock now and spare himself the trouble.

After feeding the last bits of wood to the fire, the black-haired dwarf got up and crossed the pit to get away from the dreadful smell for a moment, looking for anything he might use as a tool or weapon to ease his ascend.

"Give me an pickaxe any day, pah... A dwarf is not _climbing_ any mountain... He is bringing it _down_ if it is in his path...", he grumbled as he kicked a stone, sending it clattering across the useless boulders and rocks.

As the weak foehn wind falling from above faded away and the smoke from the fire was raising in a straight line as the sun set instead of filling the sink hole, a faint smell rose from the grounds Thorin wandered, causing the dwarf to frown and kneel down, only to get up again and walk towards the far end of the pit, again and again kneeling down to smell the stones.

"Impossible!", he cried, but found there could be no other explanation for this familiar smell rising from the ground – why, there had to be a tunnel below! He knew this smell since he was a child - stale air, dry and dusty, no trace of the smell of wet moss or rotting vegetation- no, this was not a cave, nothing nature had created!

Nervous, Thorin walked the ground, looking for any sign to confirm or confute his suspicion. Why would there be a tunnel in the wilderness? Was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

As the light faded, he was about to give up, as his eyes would surely not spot-

No! What was this?

The black-haired dwarf held his breath, carefully scratching dirt of a part of the wall leading straight was something odd about these stones- they were too smooth and polished, their angles straight-

"Runes... RUNES!" Thorin yelled, laughing, tears of joy coming to his eyes – yes, there was a tunnel below!

He shoved stones and dirt away from the wall, his laughter hysterical as he read the worn out inscription above what appeared the arc supporting the entrance to a tunnel, which was now partially buried and blocked by boulders.

"_Here... went … Thrór and Grór... and... our people... follow us_... Follow us! Hahaha! Ahahahah!"

Thorin had to sit down, laughing, not believing his luck – there was a tunnel to the east!

This was the very route his grandfather had taken, to escape from the Grey Mountains and the dragons' fire – and now the very same tunnel would safe his people once again!


	62. Second Moon of Summer 2873

_Sorry for the delay, getting stuck despite having the arc laid out is silly, ne? T_T Next chapter 4.5, finally finally some Fili&Kili! Missed them so much!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

The pale, silent dwarf woman smoothed the wrinkles of her dress for the tenth time, her gaze unfocused in the distance, when suddenly she cried out, "It has been a week since that poor boy was put into prison- no, I stand no more of this! I have to tell the council-"

"**You will **_**not**_**!**", both dwarf men cried in unison, startled by her spontaneous outcry, after they had sat in silence for half of the morning, to discuss for the last time what still could be done, and what could not.

As the sun rose the next day, the trial would start, the sentence demanded by the outraged dwarfs of the Ered Luin no less than death, as the boy's desperate attempts to defend himself were futile, the bloody knife proving his guilt to the masses. Only a handful of dwarfs were convinced by his innocence – mainly those who were the ones to blame for Ifur's fate.

Gifli quickly got up from his chair and got between his daughter-in-law and the door, lest Dís tried to get to leave; all weel long he had been expecting her to give in under the severe pressure she was under, ready to stop her at any moment, not leaving her side anymore, as Efli was still too weak to leave his bed to watch over his conscience-stricken wife by himself.

"Be reasonable Dís!", the bald dwarf tried to reassure her, hoping his son might convince the stubborn blond dwarf woman, who seemed determined to throw away her own life.

"No Dís, you can not do this - why, think about Fíli and Kíli!", Efli implored, reminding his wife of the two beings which mattered more than her desperate sense of guilt, conjuring a sombre outlook for their future, "How will their lives be, with you gone and your name banished? They will have to spent their days wandering the wilderness, hoping to find a place where their names will be unknown, working themselves to death for a life not worth living – say, do wishing for them to be branded as sons of a murderess?!"

Dís shook her head slowly, tears coming to her bright golden eyes as she thought of her poor sons, now playing innocently in their room, whilst the course of their fate was being toyed with by adults laden with guilt.

"Let met go then! Let me take the blame!", Gifli plaintively demanded, his voice quivering, absurdly afraid his son and daughter-in-law might take him by his word in the end; hut he was deeply ashamed of his selfish, cowardly thoughts - to think he, if for moment only, would have a child suffer for his wrongdoings, glad to be spared for all his sins.

"No father! Not you too!", Efli sighed, sinking back into the pillows, annoyed with his father's and wife's stubborn dedication to self-sacrifice.

"I am old, and- well, I do not like to die, but- I-", the old dwarf started out, trying to sound firm and sure about his decision, even when the thought of being hanged made him tremble with fear.

"This is insane! **_Are you both crazy?_** Neither of you can go and take his place! No, do you not see? The would kingdom would fall if your family's name is tainted Dís- and the lives of our children would be ruined! And it will not be much of difference, being exiled as sons of a murderess, or branded as grandchildren of a mage! Dís, look at me - promise me, you will think of our sons!"

Dís could found she could not disagree her husband, despair clouding her mind, as she saw there were no options left; it was as Elfi said, she could not tell the truth to save Ifur – unless she dared to be cause of an upheaval under the mountain, which might end the line of Durin and make her sons life miserable.

"I-but-"

"Dís! Please! _Think of our sons_! How will their lives be, if their mother is exiled as an assassin – or their grandfather hanged as an assassin and meddler of magic!", the grey-haired dwarf man cried, begging his wife to see reason, if not for her own sake, then for her children.  
He could see how the decision to keep the secret came hard to her – but were not Fili and Kili more important than some other dwarf's fate?

"I... Efli, _please_... I will send the boy into exile... But maybe, one day... I could reprieve him …. ?", her voice broke, knowing the boy would not ever be able to return home ever - for he had no home to return to once he was branded as a murderer, and bitter tears ran down Dís`face, as she wonder how she could have been so cruel in her madness, hiding the knife in the boy's room.

Efli reached out for his wife, consoling her as he held her in his arms, "I know how hard this comes to you, light of my days! Forgive me for not preventing any of this madness from happening... I have been a no good husband to, causing you grief."

"No, I am just as to blame my love – I did not see what was right in front of my eyes, and lost what I loved thus!"

Gifli looked upon his son's and daughter-in-law's reconciliation with sad eyes, sarcastically congratulating himself to achieving his goal – but the horrendous price they all had to pay! To live knowing that an innocent dwarf boy would be exiled for his foolishness and their haughtiness seemed a punishment worse than death, for it was a sentence which would last as long as they lived.

* * *

"I think you had enough."

"HU?"

The guard looked at Nori with bloodshot eyes, his head bobbing slowly up and down, looking for the mug which had disappeared from his hand.  
The thief of Thorin Oakenshield's company and the guard had been drinking for hours, and were eventually running out of the intoxicating liquid - not that the blond dwarf could drink much more before passing out. Nori had found to be their greatest weapon against Fain's soldiers to be the hard liquor he made from potatoes, as only a handful of the honor guard and some younger dwarfs had not succumbed to the temptation yet, to now and then take a small sip- or a large gulp to relieve the stress after a long, hard day in the mines.

"I said, you've had _ENOUGH_ my friend. You have duty to stand guard the outer gates tomorrow, you may recall my friend?"

The drunk dwarf nodded earnestly, though at the moment he might have been a miner or a mule for all he knew, as he barely could think of his name, let alone where or who he was – but he was at peace, and knew his friendly friend was right about all he said.

"Duty, yessssh, duty..."

"Maybe you should go to your quarters?", Nori suggested, easily helping the guard up from the ground as he was completely sober himself, pouring his moonshine back into the bottle when the other dwarf was not looking, a trick became easier and easier as the evening progressed.

"Yessh... quart-qua- … yesh..."

"_Yes_, to your **quarters** – you know, where you sleep? That place? Down the hall, then up and left? Where the other guards are?"

For a moment the thief was afraid he had taken his little game to far, seeing how the other dwarf stared at him unintelligent about to collapse; but then, the guard shook his head as to clear it, and stumbled forward, pushing Nori's helping arm off his shoulder as he went along babbling, "Shl-sleeep, shl-eep … yesh, I will go sh-shleep... Lefffft, righ, leffft..."

Nori followed the guard in a safe distance for a while, to see if he would be alright, quickly hiding the shadows when he saw a group of guards approach their drunken comrade, joking about his condition as they grabbed him by the shoulder and guided him back to their quarters.

Since all of them had traded for Nori's moonshine before, and drunk until they could not more, none felt the need to report the misstep; if only, they would reprimand the drunken guard by taken away his secret stash of the intoxicating beverage, a new and much dreaded punishment in the mines.

The brown-haired dwarf was playing a dangerous, if not lethal game, trusting the guards to keep his distillery a secret between each other; for Lord Fain had a strict policy on alcohol, banning anything stronger than beer from Drakosterban, as he saw liquor as an undermining of military morale. And seeing how quickly the guards were loosening up when given a drink , Nori found the ruler of the Grey Mountain dwarfs to stand correct with his assumption.

Often, he had to prevent the guards from spilling too much information in their drunk stupor, as the thief was afraid the guards might regret their little chat in the morning, recalling dimly their words when waking up hungover. and coming to imprison him and his friends for knowing too many secrets.

Oh, the things they told him when dead drunk, forgetting about their position, prisoner and guard reversing their roles!  
Nori shuddered as he lay down on his bed, wishing he too could drink those memories away. The stories of the many dwarfs dead, murdered by their own brothers, the many men and women buried below the mountains – and the hundreds of half-breed children, rotting away in chambers without ever seeing light, their very existence causing the thief nightmares.

The sheer numbersof them! All of the guards had once lain with a daughter of men over the years, and most fathered a misshaped creature or two, or at least thought they had. For many years, Fain had his soldiers lay with women of man, at first out of curiosity, then with a plan – and Nori soon came to understand how Fain had gathered his army when he set out for the Grey Mountains.

No dwarf sitting drunk on his floor or trading tools and information for alcohol, had ever seemed disgusted to lay with women not of his kind - the only thing he found all soldiers had in common. Why, if they regretted anything at all, it was not being allowed to know about their children, to see them face to face, to give them a name – but not that these digusting being had been brought forth by their loins!

Bofur still would not talk to Nori, urious about his plan to send Dwalin to the breeding chambers, not seeing the point of his best friend risking his life for a gamble; but what did the angry dwarf know what the powers they might gain in return!

No, Fain's soldiers would not rebel to free the women they had lain with, even if some regarded them with deep feelings, calling them their wives - but ... for their children, whom they had not ever known? These creatures they longed to see for years now? For their sons, whom would be slain in battle, without ever knowing their father? For their daughters, which would grow up to face the fate of their mothers?

Nori smiled, seeing his plan slowly unfold. It might take weeks, or months, to do what had to be done... But he had all the time in the world, to set the figures up.

And when he would make his move - then the mountains would come down on Fain, ending this game for once and all.

* * *

How many days had passed since he had entered the tunnel?

One - Two - Five?

Thorin did not know where he was, or how much longer he would be wandering through the dark - was even still headed east? Or was he going west now?

The tunnel his great-grandfather Dain had let built through the mountains was wide enough for a dozen dwarfs to march side by side, and the echo of a lonely dwarf`s steps rang eerily from the high walls, the tunnel's infinity making Thorin wonder if this was not the afterlife, and he was wandering through a lost dream – for who could tell if he was still alive, if he was on his own?

The king of the Ered Luin was resolved to carry on as long as there was life in his body, but the bright hope he had when he found the tunnel was quickly withering away, as he found himself lost in the darkness, without any clue where he was head or how long his journey would take.

Now and then, a weak single ray of light would find it's way down through what once had been a ventilation shaft, or maybe a light well, high above in the ceiling– but now trees and dirt where blocking the contorted shafts, allowing neither light nor air to pass through anymore, or for a dwarf to escape from the tunnel.

The torch Thorin had carried as he ascended had long burnt down, and often the black-haired dwarf stumbled, or ran into a wall when he had been certain to wander in the center of the tunnel, cursing softly when he hit his toes against a rock.

He rested when he got too tired and slept the middle of the tunnel when he felt like, as he could not tell night from day anymore.  
The only thing he knew for sure was that these tunnels were safe – at least from Orcs, Wargs, or Fain's scouts.  
But what good was being safe? Only once found good water, and if he would not starve, he certainly would die from thirst soon! Thorin laughed at the irony, as the solid construction of the tunnel, which kept all danger from above far away from him, also kept any water from the tunnels, killing him slowly but steadly.

It would have taken him six to seven weeks get to the Iron Hills if he had taken the route through the Ered Mithrin, crossing paths and climbing peaks, on a pony - Thorin tried to not think about how long it would take him to get to the Iron Hills on his own tired feet, without water or food.

But still, he was grateful for the tunnel his great-grandfather had built - but why had he never been told about this before? Why has his grandfather Thror not spoken about the path he had taken with his people? They had been one people not long ago - but why not anymore?  
No bitter words had ever been spoken by Nain and Dain about his father or Grandfather to Thorin; but since the Iron Hills dwarfs and the Erebor dwarfs had parted hundreds of years ago, there relation had been polite but never warm, despite their close kinship. What had made the brothers break up, causing one to settle in the Iron Hills, one in the Erebor?

Was it for the riches of Erebor? Or something worse?

The black-haired dwarf sighed, deciding to save his strength and rather focus on the many miles that lay ahead of him. He would have enough time to think and talk about the history his and Dain's grandfather had shared, when he arrived in the Iron Hills - if he ever arrived there, alive...


	63. Second Moon of Summer 2873, Part 2

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

Many years, he had spent wandering the roads and wilderness of the plains, and hunger and thirst had been no strangers to him – but Thorin had not ever suffered such thirst in all his life, his mission almost forgotten as he stumbled forward, recalling only the taste of water - sweet, cool water!

He wondered how he ever could consider gold precious, when water was the sweetest, beautiful treasure – how he would savor the taste if only one drop he should ever drink! Thorin groaned, his lips chapped and crusted with blood, remebering the might waterfalls in the Ered Luin, the endless fields of pure snow on the Misty Mountains, and the cold, swift streams coming out of the rocks of the Erebor … He could almost hear them, their memory crisp and clear in front of his eyes, the lovely sound of water falling into endless depths, the cool spray wetting his face- surprised Thorin tried touched his face, afraid he had gone mad- was he dreaming? Had he gone mad?

But there was water! There was wetness on his face, as a faint mist filled the air – water! There was water nearby! Mad with thirst, the black-haired dwarf tried to hurry towards the source of the mist, all caution gone as the noise of enormous streams of water falling became louder and louder in the darkness – only when his feet slipped on the ground covered with moss and algae, Thorin came to his senses, laying still on the ground, feeling the moisture of the plants seep through his clothes.

Slowly, he crawled towards the thundering noise filling the darkness, aware of the dangerous ravine nearby, drinking water from puddles on his way until he passed out, the taste of moss strange in his parched mouth as he drifted of to sleep.

* * *

"Haha! I kill you! Take this, you evil monster!", Kili cried, knocking over Fíli's figure.

"Hey, this is not fair! You did not say you were making your move! I was not looking!", Fili protested, putting his figure back on the board, demanding a retry.

"No! I did win! Just because you do not look still means I win!"

Defiant, the younger dwarf took his last figure from the board, hiding it behind his back, sticking his tongue out at his elder brother.

Fili rolled his eyes at his little brother, who was even a more sorry winner than he was a loser.

"You are such a _baby.._ Why do I even play with you!"

The brown-haired dwarf boy frowned for a moment, pondering the serious question, then explained cheerfully, "Cause nobody else will play with you!", earning himself a hit on the head by his offended brother.

"You make it sound as if that was_ my_ fault! And- and- and it's not like anybody else would play with_ you_ either!"

The brother huffed and turned away from each other, each one pouting and staring at the wall, pretending it was not him who had been grounded, but the other.  
Their mother had forbidden them to leave their rooms as long as Ifur was still held captive in the dungeons. The children could not see why their mother was still worried something might happen to them, when the bad dwarf who had hurt their father was all locked up, and soon would be gone; but they soon had learned the hard way that Dís would not let them argue about why or how long the would be confined in their rooms.

"It is unfair- why are we being locked up too!", Kili complained to the figure which had secured his victory, as if the proud dwarf warrior might be able to tell him why.

Fili shrugged, putting his figures back onto the board, setting up another game, "Maybe mother thinks that Ifur's friends would come after us – pah! Let them come! I would give them a beating they would never forget! One left- and right- and left- Waaah!"

The momentum of his swings had unsettled his balance, and Fili almost crushed onto the board, catching himself in the nick of time. Fili laughed, mocking his brother, "Oh, you would hit them really good- just after you hit yourself! Hahah- ouch! Hey, why did you hit me!"

"Cause you are being a _brat_!", Fili explained, ready to hit his little brother again, a huge grin on his face – but this time, Kili was prepared as he jumped up and tackled his brother, sending them both to the ground, knocking over the board game.

Laughing they wrestled until Kili lost to Fili, after declaring just moments before braid-pulling was legal in their fight; but surprisingly, his brother's long blond hair was harder to get a hold on than his short, brown, making him lose yet again.

"You are _sooooo_ unfair! ", the little dwarf boy cried at his brother, frustrated to still not be a match for him.

"Oh Kili, you are unfair too- you kicked my shin when we said no kicking- but I'll give you a chance for a rematch! Let us play Hit-The-Troll again, but this time I get to play the dwarfs!"

"But only if I win!", Fili demanded, helping his brother to set up the game again, unaware of their quiet visitor who softly closed the door, deciding not to disturbing the children in their play this evening. There would be a better time to tell them about his decision, and as it would be the end of their happy days together, he did feel no need to hurry all together; there never was any need to hasten the arrival of sorry days.

* * *

Waking up slowly,Thorin did not know where he was, the deafening noise of the waterfall confusing him as he opened his eyes- when had he fallen asleep? He found the tunnel now filled with weak sunlight, losing itself in the shadows long before it reached the ground. Apparently the water had found a way through the stone by itself, slowly eating the solid rock until it crumbled, taking half of the tunnel with it; the remainder of the tunnel would still allow six dwarfs to pass at a time, but Thorin knew he would have fallen to his death the night before in his thirst-driven madness, had it not been for his luck.

He drank more water and filled up his canteen as he sat on the wet moss, praying the little water he could take with him would last for the last part of the journey.

Carefully, Thorin made his way past the wide hole in the ground, keeping close to the tunnel walls as to not lose his footing again, scratching moss of the stone to keep it as provident, wary of the strange, pale mushrooms growing on the ground.

The noise was fading away as he continued his way, and wandering through darkness and light, the dwarf king was surprised to find the tunnel in a better state than on the other side of water fall – judging by the changing textures of the rock the tunnel had been built through, he had left the Grey Mountains long behind, and was now entering the Iron Hills -

Thorin stopped in a pool of light, surprised to find the tunnel to not lead straight ahead, but to split up – suddenly there were two tunnel, instead of one!

Baffled, the dwarf approached the junction, at a loss which way to choose; he had no idea which tunnel might be the one leading to the Iron Hills – and where the other might lead to, if he did lead anywhere at all. Maybe it was a decoy – or a trap, meant to lure enemies in?

Thorin tried to look for foot steps, or any marks telling him which tunnel had ever been wandered by dwarfs; but time had long erased any signs of his ancestors – except one.

The dwarf king had to look up to read the runes above the two royal seals, which had been hammered into the walls where the tunnel split up, when his kind had been taller still, their lives of wealth and riches allowing them to grow; but Thorin did read the runes to know where the tunnels were leading to, as he immediately recognized the seals.

Three rings, pierced by a sword – the sign of the Iron Hills to this day, though now it did not carry the two stars shown on the old seal anymore.

As for the tunnel to his right … Thorin sighed, as he always would recognized the lonely peak with the four stars surrounding it, no matter how withered and crude the seal had become in time.

"Erebor...", Thorin whispered, resting his head against the wall, pressing his forehead against the seal as if it could cure his homesickness.

Home - so close... Maybe... Just for a few days, he would go there - just one look at it...?

Just to see, how far the tunnel would take him? If there was a way, a way to-

_**No.**_

Thorin sighed, a bitter smile on his face as he reminded himself of his duty.

He had to continue on the path he had chosen, as he had lost too much time already – his friends, his family, his people mattered more, than all the longing in his heart. Now was not the no time to dream of things long gone – unless he wished to lose even more things dear to him.

"I will return to you... Wait for me, Erebor..", he whispered against the seal, not looking back once as he set forth, knowing his resolution would falter if he took on more look at the chance he left behind.


	64. Second Moon of Summer 2873, Part 3

_Guaaah, this is taking so long, sorry for the long wait- next chapter 11.5, then quicker schedule, hurray for holidays!  
Finally chapters of this arc coming through! :D Free cookies!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

He wiped the dust from his inflamed eyes, wincing as he only rubbed the dirt in deeper, unable to clear his eyes.

Was he at the end of his journey? Thorin blinked, relying on his hands to see what was in front of him as his sight was blurred, and had often betrayed him these last two days wandering in through darkness and dim light; but there was not doubting it, the tunnel ended right in front of him.

Running his hand over the surface, the dwarf realized it was not rocks blocking his path, but iron – giant, solid plates of iron, their seams welded so perfectly he could barely feel them with his swollen hands. Slowly, he made his way along the wall of iron, trying to find a door, a gate, anything which might allow him to pass – but if there was any way to the other side, it was hidden well from his searching hands.

Frustrated, he started to hammer against the plates, trying to clear his throat, croaking hoarsely, "Open – up! Open! In the – name – of – Thorin – son – of- Thrain- cough -son -of Thror! Open the gate!"

He felt the skin of his palms crack as he banged against the iron, desperate to make him himself heard. There had to be guards on the other side! There had to be dwarfs who would hear him!

"OPEN – THE – GATES!"

Thorin felt his knees give in, hunger and thirst overwhelming him as despair slowly crept into his mind – what if there was nobody on the side? What if the tunnels had been sealed and abandoned long ago, forgotten by all dwarfs of the Iron Hills?

"OPEN – UP! OPEN! in IN – cough- THE NAME – OF THORIN – OAKEN- SHIELD – cough … please... open … open... please... do … open... the gate..."

* * *

"Bring forth the branding iron,", the queen demanded quietly after she had read out the sentence loud and stepped down from the pillory, her white dress shimmering golden in the setting sun.

The dwarfs gathered outside the main gates stood in silence, their faces pale as they stared at the boy bound in chains, his black-hair wild and unkempt, watching with grim fascination, and not little horror the enforcement of the law.

"Mother – this hurts!", Ori whined, his mother's grip painful on his shoulder, as she forced him to look at the punishment taking place in front of his eyes.

"_Do never forget this Ori, do not never forget – this is what friendship looks like!_", Rés hissed at her son, her green eyes blazing with a strange, amused fury as she watched the red-hot iron put against the boy's neck, his muffled cry making her shudder.

"_This is what friendship brings forth Ori! Do not ever forget this day!_"

Startled by his mother's cold, cruel voice, the boy did not dare to inquire what she might be referring to, afraid the answer to be even worse than the horror he had to witness with his own eyes; for of this was justice, then why was the punishment feeling worse than the crime?

Why was there regret and tears to be found in so many eyes watching?

Dís clutched the paper roll she had written the sentence on so tight it was crumpling, her complexion whiter than the snow on the peaks of the Ered Luin.

Not far behind her, Efli and her trembling sons were standing in line with the members of the royal council, their eyes fixed upon the young dwarf man – no, still a boy he was – being punished for his hideous crime, a crime he had never committed.

The boy's sentence had caused quite some indignation amongst the Ered Luin dwarfs, who considered it uncalled for to reprieve Ifbur from a death sentence to merely exile; Dís knew her decision might be her downfall as Queen if she did not act quick, betraying herself and everything she believed in with her actions. The dwarf woman had to fight nausea as the smell of burning flesh filled the air, the cries of Ifur's mother the only thing disturbing the beautiful silence of a warm summer evening.

Ifur's mother had chosen to follow her son into exile, as had three of Ifur's friends, and when the sun had set, they would set forth towards the east after tending to the boy's wounds, whilst all dwarfs of the Ered Luin would to return to their homes, allowed to step through the main gate – all dwarf of the Ered Luin but the small company of Ifur, son of Bifur, wrongfully accused of assassination and rebellion.

Dís could not avert her eyes, as the boy's fate was her responsibility; but still she shrank back from the boy's hatred look as their eyes met, knowing that Ifur would never forgive her as long as she and anyone she loved lived.

* * *

" Oin – hey, fool, HEY! **LOOK AT ME**!", Dwalin yelled at the other dwarf, who slowly looked up from his mortar, frowned and look left and right, before finally looking behind his back, screaming with shock at seeing the tall dwarf glower at him only an inch away from his face.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Oh my, Dwalin! Did you frighten me- why did you not knock at the door!"

Dwalin stared at the deaf dwarf disbelieving, wondering if he should knocking him on the head to announce his arrival instead; had Oin forgotten again he was mostly deaf?!

Using his hands to amplify his gestures, Dwalin tried to communicate his question to the healer, "Oin – does – Fain – have – children – here?"

The grey-haired dwarf stared at him baffled, trying to figure out what the crazy dwarf was telling him, only a faint mumbling reaching his right ear.

"Uh, what – bunny, goes riding, over mountain? No? Ah! Now I see! No, not that I would know of, not any that I would know of... But he keeps his offspring in his quarters I've heard – quite nasty creatures too!"

Dwalin nodded, finding his hunch confirmed, "Oin – does - Fain – have – woman – down – here?"

Oin stared at Dwalin for a long time, his mouth hanging open as he misinterpreted the message at first; only when the younger dwarf asked his question a second time, using less offensive gestures, he was able to comprehend, blushing and scolding himself for thinking of things that were too improper to even think about when thinking!

"_If Fain does have women down here_, now, now, let me think! … Hm, if he does come down here, it is not to breed, as far as I know- he does come to the chambers now and then, but only to see the three old hags, who are in charge raising the girl children- I do not know their names, but these women are dangerous, and mad - they do not even care for their own kind! So mad!"

"I see... Where – are – 'they'?"

Oin chuckled at Dwalin's impression of an 'old hag', but ten shook his head, his face stern, "They are living in quarters close to the nursery, and are guarded day and night- apparently, attempts on their rotten lives have been made before. Listen, Dwalin, you mustn't try anything reckless! Fain does care for these old women, and I think, they bore him children long ago – but he would not put his life in line before theirs!"

The young dwarf grinned broadly, reassuring the healer, "Surely Oin, _**I**_ will not do anything 'reckless' – but I know someone who may, if I give them what is needed..."


	65. Second Moon of Summer 2873, Part 4

_Looooong chapter, finally dooooone, so exhausted but dooone ;)  
Glorious Billy Connolly will play Dain in the movies, I hope they make good use of him !  
_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"So, what did you come here for?", Bofur asked annoyed, merely seeing the thief come into his room enough to rise his temper.

Nori raised an eyebrow at the hearty welcome, but choose to not return like for like, as they had not much time for chatter, every passing moment increasing the chance of being detected, "I am here to show you something important- Bifur, will you draw_ that thing_ again?"

The black-haired dwarf grunted, and quickly spreading the sand from his pocket on the table, using lines to quickly and quietly explain their plan to the other half of Thorin Oakenshield's company.

Balin, Bofur and Dori stared at the table appalled, whilst the brown-haired thief lightheartedly explained his plan without saying one suspicious word, keeping an eye on the door, ready to destroy the drawing at any moment.

"It can be done by two of us, maybe even one- Bombur will provide the tools, and Bifur and I will be the ones who carry it out."

Bofur looked at his little brother disbelieving, stammering, "But- Bombur- how can you help them do this! Thousands of dwarfs will die – _by your hand!_"

But the formerly so lively and round dwarf only sighed and remained quiet, let his head hang low, almost vanishing in his clothes, which now were too wide for his narrow frame; how could he tell his brother that he had stopped carry for his life, or anybody else long ago - as long as this nightmare would be ended?

"Bombur!", Bofur demanded and explanation, but Nori cut him off, "He is only doing what has to be done – here, take these, and do keep them close!"

The dwarfs warily unwrapped the small bundles the thief gave each of them, Balin the first to realize what the keys were supposed to unlock, whispering, "The royal grave chamber? Where Thorin escaped?"

Nori nodded, and drew a crude map into the sand Bifur had used to explain their plan before.

"This is were you have to get to- it is not far from the forge, and usually not guarded at all. But be careful, the tunnels will quickly be- well, but you know that. So, take one key each and hide it about your person- and do not lose it! Always carry it with you! It is your only chance to escape alive when the chaos does start!", Nori inculcated them, putting his own key on a leather string he kept round his neck, "We will have but moments to get out of here when our plan does work – and if it does not, we may not have any time at all! Each does run by himself, and _**no going back**_ – not for one of us, not for anybody else!"

"But- what about Oin, what about Dwalin! They will-", Dori and Gloin cried, horrified by the idea of flooding the whole city, drowning every living creature within it.

"_SHH! Do not ever say this out loud_- or do you want to ruin our plan, and get us killed?", Nori hissed, glowering at two dwarfs, "Besides, they will each receive a key in time-"

"Oh, and who will give it to them – you I presume? Sneaking through the halls at night, unseen by anybody?", Balin gibed, considering Nori's plan sheer madness, "It is impossible to get past the guards- you might as well try to sneak into Fain's chambers and kill him in his sleep!"

"Do you think I spent my days and nights working for nothing?", the thief grumbled, angered by his companion's open distrust; is plan was flawless, so why were they not following him gladly?

"I will give it to a guard I trust, who will be in charge of guarding the place – Oin and Dwalin will receive their keys in time, you have my word on that."

Bofur smiled grimly, "And how will they be able to escape? How will they know in time when the water works break? You also got a guard to run and warn them, hu – thief?"

Nori clenched his fists, the insult making his blood boil; but he knew he could not risk breaking up the company, before they - or most of them - had escaped alive, as he alone stood no chance against Fain's warriors.

"They will execute their plan on the day we carry out ours, and this will allow them to escape easily- and after all they have seen, I highly doubt Dwalin and Oin will mind the whole mountain being flooded."

"No! My brother would never accept this - he is no monster! And neither are we! We are warriors – not murderers!", Balin hissed, glowering at the thief, Bofur, Dori and Gloin stepping behind him, their faces grim, ready to fight to supported their leader if necessary.

"So, you'd rather have us all die here, and our people slaughtered and enslaved by Fain when his army is ready? You really are willing to let this happen, old fool – the death of thousands of children and women everywhere – and dare to consider yourself _not _a monster?"

The white-haired dwarf flinched, but his stance did not waver, "There has to be- there will be another way! Your plan is too flawed! I say we wait, and when the ones like us are safe- you may carry it out!"

Bifur grunted, rolling his eyes, and Nori laughed softly, inquiring, "And how will this ever happen, dear Balin? How will 'the ones like us' get out of here, without Fain's army smelling the trap? Oh, I am curious how you hope to achieve this! I say, let us execute our plan – and was it not you Bofur, who said that there is no good soul in this mountain but the nine of us?"

"I say we wait! There has to be another way – we can not be like them, murdering our brothers! "Balin stubbornly insisted, and Bofur was quick to revalidated his opinion, claiming, "Surely, some of the dwarfs in the mines are murderers, traitors – and thieves too – but none of them deserve to die in such a lousy way! I am warning you, Nori – I will rather betray your plan, but let you carry it out!"

The two dwarfs stared each other grimly, fighting a silent battle of wills, Dori and Gloin sharing a nervous look, whilst Balin calmly watch them settle the argument, convinced to know who would gain victory this time.

And surely, after a moment of lethal silence, brown-haired thief shrugged and averted his eyes, accepted his defeat -this time.  
Cold fury was burning in his eyes as he left the room, nodding at Bifur and quietly whispering to Balin as he passed him, "We will do as you say, and wait... But do not dare to blame me, you meek merchant, if your brother's sacrifice is in vain by then!"

* * *

"Please, do lie still your highness!", the healers insisted, but did not dare to hold the king down, who impatiently tried to leave his bed, even as his knees would not support his weight as he staggered forward.

"_Your highness_!"

"Let me go! I need to talk to my cousin Dain – _**where is he**_!", the black-haired dwarf demanded heatedly, pushing away the helping hands trying to steady him. They would not tell him how many days had passed since he had been found by the iron gates, more dead than alive with exhaustion; Thorin feared he might have slept for weeks without noticing, as his wounds seemed to heal already - and Dain still did not know what atrocities his brother was committing in the Grey Mountains!

"Your highness, please, do rest – you are still very sick!", a very young dwarf dared to insist, and even tried to hold the royal dwarf back, only to be severely rebuked and pushed backwards, "Get your hands off me! I have to see Dain- NOW!** Let me go**!"

"Haha, bravo, bravo- if I had any doubts it really was you dear cousin, they'd be gone by now, as I could hear you roar at the main gate already!", sudden laughter interrupted the scene, as he tall blond dwarf clad in armor entered the room, applauding enthusiastic.

Thorin sighed relieved, and finally allowed the healers to guide him back his bed, accusing the blond dwarf as lay down, "Finally! Cousin Dain, what did keep you for so long! I need to talk to you - immediately!"

Dain chuckled amused, and ordered the guard to bring up a chair for him, so he could follow his cousin's dire order.

"Well, I am here now, after batteling some Orcs – but how are doing cousin Thorin? I was told you were in an aweful state when the guards found you, making a ruckus to raise the dead - just why did you wander the tunnel all by yourself?"

Thorin brushed his cousin's concerns of with a wave if his hand, disregarding all manners and politeness as he thought them a waste of time, "Dain, you need to ready your army right now, so we can ride for the Grey Mountains – your brother Fain is insane, mad and needs to be stopped!"

If the king of the Ered Luin had expected his cousin to be shocked about the news of his brother's whereabouts and doings, he was being disappointed, as the blond dwarf king merely smiled at him happily, sounding cheerful as he explained, "I already thought he might be hiding there, that old louse, and was up to something – but surely, this is not as urgent? He has been scheming, why - for eighty years I guess?"

Thorin stared at his cousin's nonchalance disbelieving, seeing how he had spent weeks on a murderous quest to get here – and all that Dain got to say was how this was not urgent?

"Cousin! This is – this is serious! How can you remain this calm?! Your brother is a mad dwarf, who is enslaving his own people!"

The blond dwarf scratched his head, his short braids tousled from the helmet his guards where holding now, "Uh, cousin Thorin, how do I explain this to you- but well, Fain always was a bit, you know – nutty?"

Seeing how his cousin still looked at him baffled, Dain tried to present Thorin the problem with his brother in a different light, "Fain always was different- and well, he always was a bit avid for power and a nasty brat. After our father died, grandfather did take him in, and some of his crazy ideas rubbed of on my little brother – hahaha, he even tried to take the throne for himself when grandfather died! Crazy fool... He of course was sentence to death and what not, but managed to escape with some of his followers – do not know till the day how he managed that – but well, since he always was too stupid to do anything right, and we had other things to do, I let him be wherever he choose to hide."

"You- you just let him be? After he tried to claim your throne?!", Thorin cried disbelieving, his eyes wide with shock at his cousin's carelessness.

Dain shrugged, his friendly smile still on his face as he tried to tell Thorin about his motives, "Little brothers are – well, you would have probably let Frerin escape too, had he tried something like that in his time– and I am still impressed Fain finally had the balls to pull this through, haha – _him _trying to overthrow _me_! I am really a bit proud of him you could say, hehe!"

Thorin was trembling with anger, his voice dripping with hatred as he asked his laughing cousin, "You think this is **funny**? You think hundreds of dwarfs dead or enslaved in his mines is a** joke**? You think an army of half-breed monster**_ is something to laugh about!_**?"

The blond dwarf's face became stern as he apologized to his outraged cousin, "Forgive my careless words Thorin, I did not mean to insult you, or to mock the horrors you have seen... But when he left - well, I had hoped Fain would see the error of his ways, or at least fail miserably at restoring our ancestor's realms – but from what you tell me, he has been quite successful I am afraid... And you are certain, that my brother is as dangerous, as to justify sending an army against him, Thorin? Will he not eventually fall from his shaky throne by himself? He is a fool-"

"He is a_** monste**_r!", Thorin yelled at the blond dwarf, raging with anger, "He is not a _little boy_, who is abusing his _toys_ – he his a mad king, who will wage a war on my and your kingdom! His aim is to soil our race forever, and taint our blood –_** how can you not be outraged by this**_!"

Dain smiled amused, finding his cousin to be as hotblooded as hundred years ago, "Thorin, my dear Thorin, do not wear yourself out! I am just as angered as you – but since it is _my _people and_ my_ warriors who will pay the toll for this war, it is my responsibility to see to their blood not being shed in vain! For what seems 'outrageous' to you, and a story new and horrible, is a story old and worn out to me – who do you think told me any my brother of the strange things dwarfs and men may bring forth together? Why do you think my grandfather and your grandfather Thror never saw each other again? Say, what do you think - just who the first wolf under the mountain? To me, the wolf is no stranger, and I know how ferocious he is – so I will not fight him and throw my dearest warriors into his hungry jaws without a second thought."

Thorin found he could not met Dain's honest, warm eyes, ashamed to consider him a coward and mad dwarf like his brother; but hearing about his great uncle Grór being fond of the idea of half-breeds too, the king of the Ered Luin began to doubt if not all dwarfs of the Iron Hills were different.

"Is not the thought of hundreds of half-breeds living in the Grey Mountains enough to wage a war on your brother?"

Dain smiled at his cousin's bitterness, shaking his head apologetic, "Were he to stay in these mountains, and not bother anybody else – no. I would not sacrifice one dwarf to stop him."

Leaning forward on his chair, the blond dwarf reached out to rest his hand on his cousin's shoulder, his voice friendly, but stern as he demanded, "But I do believe your words Thorin, that Fain has to be taken down, and I will not treat your warning lightly – but before I shall talk to the council and my commanders about going to war, do tell me what happened to you, dear cousin. Tell me what awaits me and my warriors in the Grey Mountains, when I ride to slay the wolf who took my brother's form, and is threatening both our people."


	66. Second Moon of Summer 2873, Part 5

_Sick and looking for a job again, sorry for the delay :(_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Your people has become quite numerous!", Thorin realized surprised, counting more than hundred dwarfs marching in front of him, and five times as many behind him – and this was not even one fifth of Dain`s army! The blond dwarf grinned broadly, and smugly remarked, "Well, it seems like dwarf women rather choose a handsome dwarf in armor than a merchant these days- though there are surely different horses for different courses, haha!"

The black-haired dwarf rolled his eyes at Dain, mocking him, "Is that so... Then surely you must have three wives already, dear cousin, and just forgot to invite me to your wedding?"

Dain stared at his cousin baffled for a moment, then huffed, mumbling for to himself than to Thorin, "There is only one lady I love... And fate did not mean for us to be, you know that... _**HO! Kafin! How is that clearing work progressing?**_"

Dain`s voice easily carried over the noise of six hundred dwarfs marching, and the mountain king felt sorry for teasing his cousin, as he knew how much the blond dwarf loved his sister Dís; but someone else had beaten him on the way to the dwarf woman's heart long ago.

"We thought about sealing this troublesome tunnel forever, after Fain disappeared- you are quite lucky cousin we had more urgent problems at hand back then, and eventually forgot!", Dain changed the topic laughing, and let his pony slow down so Thorin could catch up with him again. The healers had protested him joining Dain on his quest, considering him too weak still – but the king of the Ered Luin could not stay behind and wait for the news of the battle, even if the long ride might prove too much for him, as his pride was all he had left in these mountains still.

Dain had ordered his army to split into five divisions, and enter the tunnel one division per day, as to keep the supply steady, and to not strain the structures of the tunnel, causing them to crumble. Thorin was almost envious, seeing how easily his cousin could plan and enforce his quest; the council of the Iron Hills did not once object their king, but readily supported him, making the king of the Ered Luin think lowly of own council, who valued coins more then honor.

The Iron Hills were the home of warriors, and whilst none of their halls compared to the Erebor, or even the Ered Luin, Thorin admired Dain's home and people – if he had an army like this by his side he would easily reclaim his home!

"Forgive my asking Dain... there is a tunnel leading to the Erebor, not far away – did you know about it?", Thorin inquired, carefully choosing his words as to not anger his cousin, who looked at him bewildered for a moment, before breaking out in his familiar, heart-warming laughter.

"Oh, I see what you're pointing at dear cousin, I see... Yes, I know there is a tunnel which once lead to the Erebor – but your grandfather Thror had your people bring it down and forever seal it after they had safely passed it, as he did not wish to ever see his brother again, and feared my grandfather might one day use the tunnel to invade the Erebor. I am sorry Thorin."

"I- ... thank you, Dain.", the black-haired dwarf king mumbled, grateful as Daín steadied his horse to fall back as to talk to his commanders, so Thorin could regain his composure. The disappointment was showing all to clear on his exhausted face, as yet another hope was shattered; was he not ever to regain his home? Did fate mean for him to not set eyes on the Erebor ever again?

He had hoped the tunnel would allow him to sneak into the mountain unnoticed, and slay Smaug in his sleep – was there no other way back into the halls of his forefathers than the main gate?

* * *

"What makes you so sure she will not betray us? You - you really do trust her?", Oin wondered, watching the other dwarf tear the bread apart to find the keys. Dwalin nodded, not bothering to answer the grey-haired dwarf, as he was not in the mood for shouting and arguing.

Nori's plan was coming together finally, and even if he still did not like the thief, he came to respect him for his boldness; having one of the honor guard smuggle the keys in was daring to the point of stupidity. But if anybody was a master of reckoning, it was a dwarf who's business was lying, cheating and getting out of danger before others realized they were in any.

One key for him and Oin to escape, and one for the women to get Fain to come down to the nursery, to either drown or be slain. The thief's plan was solid, and Dwalin knew it would work exactly as Nori intented it too – if everybody were as ruthless as him.

Forty-two would do as told, and gather a group of women whom he could trust when the day came, to take revenge, whilst Oin and him were supposed to flee in the chaos, and leave them behind to drown. Nori's plan had only one flaw, Dwalin found – what if, by chance, the game had become more to him than just play pretend?


	67. Third Moon of Summer 2873

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"There is a sickness raging in the mountains Mister Nori – a sickness called fear! Hahaha!", the white-haired guard cackled, emptying his mug, "This probably is the last time we are sharing a drink alive, hehehe! But we'll see each other again, when all times do end! Cheers!"

The thief nodded slowly, and against his strict policy of fraternization, also raised his mug and emptied it, to honor the dwarf who, in a different time and place, might have not become his friend either, but still had helped him to survive to come this far, "To the time of Mahal's return!"

Ever since a dying scout had returned from his post five days ago, to report the murder of his patrol, and the sighting of what was the vedette of an army of unknown numbers, Drakosterban had not come to rest for a single moment. The army was readied, and even those half-breeds who were still too young to fight were put in armor, their dumb eyes wide with fear as they wielded weapons for the first time. And whilst Lord Fain and his inner circle seemed to be convinced no army could ever invade the heavily guarded city, the lower ranks and workers were frantic, rumor going about nobody else but Dain, lord of the Iron Hills coming to take revenge on his brother.

More and more public execution were taking place to punish the dwarfs who tried their luck and escaped by various means, only to be caught within hours by scouts or townsfolk. Slaves, workers, guards, and even warriors fled the city, their faith in Fain replaced by terror, fearing the revenge of a dwarf greater than their lord even.

"Will you try to...?", Nori suggested, filling the guard's mug once more, knowing there would be no need to hoard moonshine or food anymore.  
For one way or another, this nightmare would be over soon - only who lived in the end might differ.

The white-haired dwarf laughed, amused at the thought of him trying to run and save himself, "Na, I will be dead one way or the other soon- why hurry? Might as well wait and see what comes next, haha! But you surely would not be as stupid as to run, Mister Nori?"

The brown-haired dwarf smiled mischievously as he shook his head, "By all gods no – knowing my luck, I'd get eaten by a Warg before I even see the sun!"

The guard grinned as well, getting the hint and advising him, "Hehe, then farewell and take care you fool- but do not take the main route to the city! The townsmen are still on Lord Fain's side, and will roast you alive – try to make it east, and join Dain! I heard he and his warriors are hiding in one of the valleys... Maybe- if you would put in a good word for me, hehe?"

"You know, I would never run! But - if I were to, I maybe, or not would remember you.", Nori promised quietly, refilling his mug once more, drinking to the dead which soon would fill the mountains, wondering if he would be one of them, killed by his own plan - or murdered by Fain's guards as they tried to escape.

* * *

"_Hey! Hey, you there, hey_!", Bofur whispered, trying to get the dwarf's attention without betraying his hideout. The tired dwarf did not look up from his work, sorting through the garbage patiently, only looking up confused when he felt small rocks hit his back.

"_Hey! Here! No, not – do not come closer! Pretend to work!_", the brown-haired dwarf hissed, pressing himself deeper into the shadows as a guard looked over to the vent.

The filfthy dwarf nervously moved closer to the vent, trying to peer through the bars securing it, now and then putting some rugs or scraps into his bag.

"Who- who is this?"

"_That doesn't matter – step back, you'll ruin everything! Do you know where the forge is?_", Bofur whispered, exasperated to not have a smarter dwarf notice him – who knew if this fool would not get him killed too!

"The – the forge?", the dwarf asked, shaking as he bent down to pick up a piece of garbage, scared to have the guards notice him talking to a traitor.

"_Yes, moron, the forge – listen, soon something will happen, and all of you in the mines will have to run to the forge-_"

"But- but the guards will-", the dwarf protested startled, the rug he had picked up slipping from his hands.

"_I do not care what you do to them when you try to get out- here, quickly, pick it up! And do not lose it!"_

The key hit the ground with a snick, barely audible to anybody, but to Bofur it was a deafening noise; he held his breath, expecting the guards to spot him any moment; but apparently, nobody took notice of him.

"What- what is this?", the dwarf whispered barely audible, swiftly picking up the key.

"_It's a key, fool -below the forge, if you turn north, there is a tunnel, where nobles and kings are buried, got that? That key unlocks it, and you can flee through them! When the time comes, you do listen for the signal, do you understand?_"

"What time? What signal?", the dwarf whined confused, torn between hope and despair, the shimmering new key a stark contrast in his black, sooty hands.

Bofur frowned as he realized they company had not agreed on any sign to warn each other, for each of them would be told – so how would the slaves know, when to run?

"_Uh- you will know when the time comes. Just listen for something – uh, something really, really **loud**! And do not run before you hear it! You have got once chance only moron! May Mahal guide you!You need all the help you can get!_", Bofur instructed the young dwarf before quickly crawling backwards as he noticed a guard staring at the vent for quite some time now, hoping the other would be as smart as to not be caught, and take the one chance he and all the slaves to his grave.

"But- who shall we- mister? Wait! Please! What am I- what should I go?", the young dwarf cried softly, pretending to looked through the garbage, hoping to hear his unknown helper speak to him again; but the vent was offering no further guidance to the confused young dwarf clutching the key to either his freedom – or his doom.


	68. Third Moon of Summer 2873, Part 2

_Wish me good luck! Maybe I'll have a new job soon! So excited! And wooohoo, thank you for reading, wherever you are!  
let's finish this arc guys with a blast!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

Dain whistled, setting eyes on the entrance of Drakosterban for the first time in his life, impressed by the sheer size of it, "That is quite some fortress you built yourself here brother... Well! Now let's see, if we can smoke the wolf out of his hole – _**dwarfs of the Iron Hills! Ready yourselves! We will not fall back until this mountain is ours!**_!"

Thorin hear and saw hundreds of dwarfs cheer at their king's battle cry, his ears ringing from their thundering response as Dain's warriors banged their axes against their shields before getting into battle formation, a murderous, patient silence filling the valley.

The king of the Iron Hills turned round and grinned at his cousin as he adjusted his helmet, his white teeth flashing in the moon light, "Say Thorin – between the two us of, who do you think will get his hands on Faín first?"

The black-haired dwarf raised an eyebrow, his chain mail rattling softly as he turned round and growled, "Cousin Dain, I'm afraid – even if you sent your whole army after me to slow me down... I'd still be the one to claim your brother's head."

The leader of the Iron Hills dwarf did not seem the least upset but merely laughed, closing the visor of his helmet, "So be it then – may the better dwarf find Fain, Lord of the Grey Mountains tonight! _**FOR THE IRON HILLS! START THE FIRES! SMOKE THE WOLVES OUT OF THEIR CAVES!**_"

* * *

"So the day has come.", Nori said with grim satisfaction, eating his last ration of bread.

"Do you think that his majesty might be with them?-", Dori asked excited, nervously plucking his piece of stale bread into small pieces, much to the annoyance of Bofur.

"We will see if Thorin is with them, if we get out of this rotten hole alive- you sure that plan of yours is gonna work, thief?"

"If not, it would now be too late to change the course of our fate either way...", Balin remarked drily, new lines of worry showing on his face as he did not find much sleep these days anymore, thinking of his brother, whom he could not aid in any way but praying.

The whole city was on it's feet, panic spreading as the news of the arrival of a gigantic army at the main gate went around. Fain had prepared his warriors for an offensive war, not an defensive one; to be reduced to sitting ducks, waiting for the enemy to strike first demoralized even the bravest dwarf warriors under the mountain. But the lord of the Iron Hills did not order his army to strike yet, trusting the impregnableness of his fortress to keep his brother out of Drakosterban.

"Gloin, Balin and Bofur will cause an explosion in the forge, which will allow Bifur and me to sabotage the water works – whilst you and Bombur try to get past the guards unseen and unlock the gate. And try to not die Dori, if you think you're up to the task."

The grey-haired dwarf was highly indignant hearing the brown-haired thief's sarcastic words, but knew he was probably right in one aspect – without help, the apathetic Bombur would not last for an hour, his will to live reduced to a slowly fading amber by the things he had seen and created in the workshop.

The company sat quietly on the floor, both yearning for and dreading the moment they would split up and set forth, to hopefully met again as free dwarfs, to reunite with their leader and king, Thorin Oakenshield – or to die a painful death at the hands of Fain's warriors, if their plan was to fail...

* * *

"What is this for? What does it unlock?", the black-haired woman wondered, holding the key up so all could see it, the women whispering to each other, sounding more excited than scared. Forty-two had brought eight women to Oin's quarters, using the confusion and the key given to her by Dwalin to free them and sneak passed the guards, no chain binding their feet any more. Some of the women Dwalin had met before, and they all shared the same look in their eyes, bowing before him humbly – a look of determination no men nor dwarf should ever take lightly when seen on a lovely face.

"To the nursery.", Dwalin told her, half expecting her to drop the key in disgust; but the woman's hand did not even tremble as she put the key into the pocket of her dress, nodding to her fellows.

The murmur subsided, and in the silence which followed it, Dwalin knew a decision had been made amongst the daughters of men – but to what end, he could not tell.

"I will not be able to come to your rescue. You will fight on your own – if you choose to.", Dwalin warned the women as they quietly took up the small knifes and snapped chains, an eerie serenity on their pale faces as they admired the weapons.  
"You are kind Master Dwalin, very kind... But do not come back for us.", the women answered, smiling for the first time in years, reassuring the two dwarfs, "We do not fear death below the mountain, as we do not have any life left outside of it – only, let our death be meaningful when it comes!"

Dwalin nodded quietly, holding the women's brave resolve in high esteem; to give up life willing, even when all of it was spent, was the way of a true warrior, who choose to die honorably, rather than to live in shame and misery.

"Then I pray Mahal will be watching over you tonight, and grant you a warrior's death! You have proven to be braver then most dwarfs or men I have met. So let us fight tonight on our battlefields - and meet again and rebuilt Mahal's halls at the end of times as his warriors!"

The women smiled amused as they bid the young dwarf goodbye, their eyes bright and their heads held up high as they walked down the deserted hallway, the alarmed cries of guards echoing the halls and tunnels about the enemy's approach.

"Farewell then, as we do not know much about your god – but if there is any in this world, we surely will meet again! Fight and live, young dwarf, and do not forget about us!"

As the last woman stepped through the door, she turned around and smiled at Dwalin, her long black-hair reaching down to her waist, falling free as no bands of gold and silver held it back anymore.

"Live well and long, dear Master – no, dear friend Dwalin. May you live long and see all of your children grow strong and tall as you! ...And... Wynren. My name was Wynren."

"Thank you, Wynren. I will remember you forever.", Dwalin promised as he watched her walk into the darkness, her posture proud and upright, "I will remember you... as you should have been, dear woman."

Oin became more and more worried, watching Dwalin and the women interact, their lips moving too fast for him to understand; but as he saw the group of women leave without them, he knew no good was coming from their so-called 'plan'.  
"Dwalin, do not tell me we – no, you sacrifice them – so we may escape?", Oin whispered horrified, staring at the young dwarf with wide eyes, unwilling to believe his friend to be this heartless, "Do you not care for them – for her?"

Dwalin avoided Oin's eyes and did not answer him, focusing on sharpening his stolen sword, the noise of the wet stone grinding the blade comforting him as he tried to forget the women's grateful smile as they choose to take their fate into their own hands for the first time in their lives – he had done good, and his choice was just. But he had not felt this cowardice in all his life before.


	69. Third Moon of Summer 2873, Part 3

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Summer 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"So few survived...", Balin remarked sadly, as he joined his oldest friend on the rock he had retreated to to spent some time on his own, looking down at the remains of the battle field, where the cremation fires were still burning bright.

"Still more than I ever hoped came out alive of these cursed mountains.", Thorin replied softly, still too weary to go to sleep or celebrate the victory he and his cousin had gained.

It had been a bitter victory, its cost paid in blood and lives of brave warriors. Never had the heir of the Erebor fought against his own kind, and often his blade had not swung as powerful as it could have, as he felt remorse for taking another dwarfs life, even when an enemy - what a dreadful battle it had been! To slay those who could have been brothers in another time! The dead bodies piled higher and higher, Thorin had been horrified to see the slain were mainly Dain's warriors, who fell in the useless attempt to raid the city. The cursed fortressed of Drakosterban had proved to be truly invulnerable to attacks from outside - but not so much to any attack from within!

After hours and hours of pointless attempts to draw the enemy out, suddenly hundreds of warriors had stormed out of the main gate, screaming wild, some not even carrying weapons, some not even dwarfs; it took Dain and his army long to see this was no assault, but a stampede, as they fled the city in panic.  
Only few of Fain's people fought the army awaiting them, and most came begging for mercy, offering their lives to Dain whilst the formerly proud mountain city was being destroyed by water and fire from within, betraying their Lord Fain in his final moments.

The battle was over before it had began it seemed, and scouts daring to search the flooded tunnels and ruins confirmed the captive dwarfs tale of a catastrophe whipping the city and all its inhabitants out, whilst Dain's army attacked it.

Long after the battle, the former slaves had come to the camp, climbing down the mountain, their eyes wide with shock and fear, crying for friends left behind, trampled to death or drowned as they escaped through a hidden passage - and seeing their numbers and state, Thorin had lost all hopes, crying with hurt with not one wound on his body, but too many loses to bear-

But alas! Amongst the former slaves! Was he seeing the faces of Balin, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Nori, Dori and Dwalin again, the whole group slowly coming towards him? Their pale faces white as snow in the summer sun - was it truly his lost friends? For a moment he considered himself mad, seeing things, his mind showing him things which could not ever be! Their reunion was as tearful as their parting had been bitter, and for a short time they forgot the deeds they had done and wounds which had been inflicted.

Listening to the tale of how his brave, dear companions had fought their own battles and won them through cunning bravery, Thorin should have felt proud and exhilarated – but seeing how many lives were lost, the mountain king felt he could not rejoice. What a daring, what an shifty plan - and what murderous intention!

How many had died in the floods raging through the tunnels? Hundreds? Thousands? Dain had ordered his warriors to burn their fallen comrades, and drag the bodies of Fain's warriors and slaves back into the mountains, which they would seal as their sheer number of dead dwarfs and half-dwarfs was overwhelming – and they could only phantom how many bodies had been swept away, to rot in the depths of the Grey Mountains!

"Have you decided yet when we will ride home, Thorin?", Balin asked casually, watching Dain's warriors light yet another pyre; it seemed like their was no end to dying in this cold, deserted valley.

The black-haired dwarf sighed, annoyed, even if he considered his friend's question justified, as three days had passed since the battle at the gates of Drakosterban, and his company longed to finally, eventually return home, after the horror of Fain's reign had ended.

"Soon Balin. Soon! I promise we will ride before the next full moon - when you and the others have rested a bit. We will be home before the first leaves fall."

The white-haired dwarf huffed, and crossed his arms, disgruntled to hear his king stall their departure, "Before the _next_ full moon? That would give you almost a month's time! Thorin, why - there is nothing left here, why do you insist on staying?!"

"Fain's body has not been found yet-", Thorin began to defend himself, only to be interrupted harshly by his friend , "Well, he's either keeping a family of eels happy now, or is roasting on one of the pyre's, his face torn of his skull – and even if he were still alive anyhow, he will not be for a long time! Dain's warriors are as blood-thirsty as their reputation I see, and after all the things they did see in the city, they would skin him alive should he ever show his ugly face! Do not try to fool me Thorin - I know this is not what is keeping you here still!"

Looking at his friend's bitter, thin face and torn clothes, his once long hair and beard scorched by the explosions he had caused in Drakosterban, the mountain king felt he at least owned his friend an explanation, as for why he would not lead his company back to the Ered Luin yet, back to a life of quiet comfort and peaceful niceties.

"Balin... if I told you there might be a way to reclaim the Erebor- what were you to say?"

"In all honesty?", the white-haired dwarf asked, frowning as his friend encouraged him by nodding eagerly, "Then _I_ would say, I'd rather have a warm bath in the waters of the Ered Luin_ now_, than in the molten gold of the Erebor tomorrow."

Thorin looked at his friend disappointed, wondering if the months they had spent suffering and fighting to survive far apart from eachother had turned Balin into a dwarf different of the brave friend he used to know.

"Do you_ not_ wish to return to the Erebor? You have seen what Dain's army is capable off!", the black-haired dwarf tried to reason with Balin, who had been his good friend and adviser so many times before.

"It is not _your_ army, my friend... They have no reason to fight for a mountain which is not theirs, and if Dain is wise, he will decline your wish! Look around Thorin – have not enough dwarfs died for now? Why do you wish for even more bloodshed?", the white-haired dwarf asked exhausted, tears of frustration in his eyes.

"And you? Do you not wish to return home – to the Erebor?", the mountain king replied, his face and voice hard with bitterness.

"As for_ now_, there's nothing I wish for more than to return home..._ to the Ered Luin_.", the white-haired dwarf insisted quietly, not taking back his words even as his friend and king got up without speaking another word and headed for Dain's camp, his fists clenched, a grim look on his face, leaving the younger dwarf behind without once looking back.

"Thorin...Why is being _alive_ not enough to you?", Balin cried after him as his friend was already out of sight, the wind carrying his lament over the battle field, startling neither the dead nor the crows. "Why do you wish for even more destruction!"

* * *

Despite the pain from his broken arm and ribs, Dain managed to sit up and smile as he grasp Thorin's hand, greeting him happily, "How are you doing my dear cousin- still no scratch on you I see! Lucky you!"

"But neither of us got his hands on Fain- so we were both out of luck this time!", Thorin tried to joke, Balin's words still irking him, the frown not leaving his face.

"Are your companions doing well? I heard some of them were mistreated badly.", Dain inquired, recalling the sorry dwarfs who had managed to flee out of the mines on their own, their plan commanding his admiration, even if their determination made him shudder. These was a dangerous set of dwarfs his cousin had managed to gather as his company!

"They are doing a lot better - some of them are giving me a hard time already, demanding to return home as we speak.", grumbled the mountain king, giving Dain's broken shield the evil eye as if it were the dwarf he was refering to.

Dain tried to not sound too relieved, congratulating the brave dwarf who dared to talk reason to his stubborn royal cousin, "Ha, I see, so you wish to ride this soon? Then I better should not keep you busy, talking to an invalid! If this is farewell dear cousin, I surely hope may we meet again under less grim circumstances!"

"I would love to have you and your brave warriors as guests in my halls, dear Dain – so do get well soon, and come to see me and Dís! The Ered Luin may not be our home, but there will be hearty welcome to you at anytime!"

They both laughed, but then Daín's face become stern, as he was not the jolly fool he liked to be considered as, aware of the course this conversation was taking as he urged the mountain king, "Thorin, do not think about reclaiming the Erebor now - do make the Ered Luin your home! Make your people strong, and do look ahead – only death is to be found in what lies behind you!"

The black-haired dwarf scowled, all humor gone from his face, resentfully telling his cousin, "I will _never _forget my home, and I will one day reclaim it Dain! And you know I would ride with you anytime to fight for the Iron Hills, were our roles reversed!"

The blond dwarf smiled sadly, seeing how Thorin Oakenshield would not see reason yet, blind to all the precious things he had in his life,  
"Thorin, I am honored and grateful to know you'd stand by my side in any fight, but for _**this**_? A mad quest, waging war on a dragon?  
No, dear cousin, forgive me, but _no_ - I will not sacrifice my people for the gold of the Erebor... Give my greetings to Dís, and make yourself a home in your new, beautiful kingdom! You are fortunate, as neither you _nor_ your people did perish in Smaug's fire – do not treat this precious gift lightly, and do not let it go to waste!"

The black-haired dwarf did not return the kindness of the King of the Iron Hills, and did not wish to hear his advice, bitterly bidding him farewell, "Then farewell cousin Dain, and may Mahal bless you and your people, as you return victorious to_ your _home – and may you not ever know the pain I feel for my lost one!"


	70. Second Moon of Autumn 2873

_**Final countdown to Drakosterban Arc! :D 1 of 3!**_

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Second Moon of Autumn 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"Father?"

"Hmpf!", the bald dwarf grunted as to greet his son, fixated on the stone he was examining.

"Father, have you heard about the news already?", Efli asked, feeling anxious as he looked about his father's room, looking for forbidden runes or any signs of magic, distrusting him still.

"What _news_! There's news all the time, and most of them are old before they are even new- so _what_ news do you mean?!", Gifli grumbled impatiently, disappointed to find no traces of gold or any valuable mineral in the black stone he was working on.

"Thorin is finally coming back."

The bald dwarf looked up surprised, dropping his eyeglass.

"What did you say son? Thorin is- he's coming back?"

"Yes father. He send a group ahead, to inform us, and prepare for many dwarf coming to the Ered Luin – they are speaking of at least two hundred dwarfs returning from the Grey Mountains!"

Gifli gulped, and twisted the worthless stone in his hands, asking timidly, " How... great! Wonderful... Speak son- When will he arrive?"

Efli sighed, as he pitied his father, whohad become older and smaller since the horrible incident he had caused, his guilt and the open distrust of his family wearing him out; but the bald dwarf had proven to be too dangerous to trust anymore, no matter how well his intentions had been.

"Two, up most three weeks. They will be here before the harvest is over."

Gifli turned pale and he started to beg, his eyes wide with fear, "Surely son, we will no leave then already? Winter soon will fall and-"

But the look in his son's eyes was uncompromising; Efli knew if he would waver now, he would not ever leave the Ered Luin, "Father, we will ride as soon as Thorin has arrived in the Ered Luin. Pack what you consider important to yourself, and give the rest to Dìs – she will keep it for you until-"

"Keep my things? Until when? It is not like I will return to reclaim anything, or will I, son!", the old dwarf complained bitterly, and Efli found he could not give his father an answer, as he was afraid he was right. His father had only ten, maybe twenty years to live left - years he would have to spent in the wilderness!

But it was the only solution to the treat the old dwarf was and always would be presenting to the Ered Luin. No, Efli shook his head, NO! He could not forgive him and spare his father- not after what he had done!

"Efli – but Fili and Kili! What about your sons!", the bald dwarf whined, seeing how his son would not look at him, his hands shaking so bad he dropped the stone to the barren floor. Gifli surely was now regretting deeply he had given his son his word to leave the Ered Luin with him, as punishment for the crimes his dabbling with magic had brought forth.

Picking up the stone and returning it to his father, Efli looked him straight in the eye, his decision adamant, "Father, we will be leaving – _for Fili anf Kili._ For our family, we have to go."

Forcefully Efli closed the door, leaving his father to hisown devices as he went to see his young family, pretending to not hear the old dwarf's forlorn cries as Gifli weeping sat in his little room, which soon would not be his home anymore – and not ever again.

* * *

Efli smiled, watching his sons cheer and shout, running about the halls as if mad as their joy too much to contain.

"**Uncle Thorin is coming back!**"

"**He will be back – oh, we need to make a big party!**"

"**A celebration!**"

"**_A feast_**! - Mother, father, please – can we have a feast for uncle Thorin?! _**Please!**_", the dwarf boys cried in unison, beaming at their parents, causing them to laugh out.

"Oh Fili, Kili, we will have a magnificent feast when your uncle will come riding home – after all, he is the rightful king of the Ered Luin, and all dwarfs have been longing for this day for so many months!", Dís reminded her sons amused, holding them close for a moment before they ran of again to tell all the other dwarfs of the return of their king, unaware that the news had already spread like wildfire, everybody hurrying to prepare a welcome for the true ruler of the Blue Mountains.

"Uncle Thorin is coming home!", Kili yelled at the guard before his brother had a chance to, almost slipping on the carpet as he ran past them.

"**_King Thorin_,** you stupid- you can't call him uncle in front of everybody!", Fili corrected his brother, trying to outrun the little brown-haired dwarf boy.

"But he is **_my_ **uncle – and he is coming home and we'll have a feast!"

"KING Thorin!"

**"UNCLE!"**

**"KING!"**

**"UNCLE!"**

**"KIIIING!"**

Chuckling, the two dwarfs watched their children run off, Dís softly closing the door behind them. In a moment, the smile was gone from her face as she turned to speak to her husband, asking him sadly, "When will you tell them?"

The grey-haired dwarf sighed, and looked at the cane he no longer needed to support his weight but had grown fond of; it was made from finest beech wood, and fit to his hand perfectly. An artist had spent many hours on the fine carvings, telling the story of Durin – a bold, sad tale which had encouraged and frightened Efli every since he had been a little boy.

"Dís, I- I did not want to ruin their joy. See how happy they are – their will be a better time than now to tell them that I will leave with an expedition, taking their grandfather with me... So Gifli may not cause anymore harm ... Poor old father, leaving the Ered Luin again will be very hard on him."

Sighing, the dwarf woman reached out for her husband, and letting him hold her close she wondered, "Then - why don't you just... stay?"

"Dís, you know why I have to leave – do not make this harder on me than it is!", the dwarf protested, resting his cane against a chair to hold his wife, who tried to get away from him, frustrated by his stubborn insistence.

"Hard on you, my dear? Then what about me, what about our sons! You – you... oh why are you so _stubborn_! Why will you not wait, until-"

"Until when? Dís, the day you dream of will not come – not as long as I stay in these mountains.", Efli gently tried to reason with Dís, seeing tears come to her beautiful golden eyes.

"What do you know of _my dreams_!", the blond dwarf woman protested, looking at the dozens of tiny reflection of her sad face staring back at her from the polished golden chain round her husband's neck. It had been a wedding gift to him by Thorin; Efli had not worn it for many, many years, as he had not liked it - before.

"Your dreams... You dream to be proud of your husband, and you dream of our sons having a father who is no useless drunkard, pitying himself- and you know that I can not be that dwarf to you, or them, as long as I stay in the Ered Luin."

"But **_why_ **– why do you insist Efli, that I am not loving you like you have always been - like you are now!", Dís cried, at a loss of how to prove her love to a dwarf who seemed blind to anything but himself.

"Dís... You can not love me the way I am now... I am no longer the honest, simple miner I have been - I have no duty, no mine to work here! I need to show you I am still able work, and earn and provide for you-", Efli explained, wishing his wife to see his shame and need to cleanse himself.

"No, no no! Is your family not more important than any business? We have all the gold and food we need here - so dear, do not leave me!"

"It will only be for a while – just like when I used to mine for coal in Dunland, my dear, I will not be gone for long – and when I return, you will have reason to be proud of me again Dís.", the grey-haired dwarf tried to console his wife, "Now that Thorin is coming back, you can step down from your duties, and I will work hard so when I do return to you- now do not cry my dear, do not cry! I shall write you-"

"-everyday!", Dís demanded sobbing, clinging to her husband, the happiness she felt for Thorin's safe return replaced by deepest sorrow.

"Maybe, if I do find good stone soon, and do make a fortune-", Efli mumbled, burying his face in Dís golden hair, wondering if she was not right – was this business truly as important? Would he not go insane, if he were not see her for weeks, months – even, years?

But if he stayed in the Ered Luin, living of the wealth his wife's status provided, useless and unwanted - would they not choose the same path all over again? Him, the poor, pathetic miner and her, the rich, noble princess?

**NO!**

He had to leave on an expedition to prove his worth He had to leave and come back - so he could hold his head up high again, and be husband and father again to his beloved family – and not a drunkard, wallowing in self-pity!

"Dís, do not cry, please... I shall write to you, and I will return soon-"

"Well, now Thorin is back, and my duties are fulfilled- and then, when Fili and Kili are just a bit older-", Dís smiled sadly, seeing how she could not hold her husband back, but wondering, if not she could choose to follow him.

Efli tried to sound not as heart-broken as he felt hearing Dís lovely, but unacceptable offer, "Well, then... Then I will built you a home, with a stove and a garden-"

"Just like we used to have? In Dunland?", Dís laughed, wiping tears her tears away, trying to smile for her husband who was just as stubborn and proud as the young dwarf she had been married to.

"Just like we used to have!", Efli promised, taking his wife's hand, kissing her wedding ring, "It will be like in the good old days – but please, try and do you wait for me! So when I come back as my work is done – it will be just like it was in Dunland, my dearest love! Only now, no more hunger, no more fear! I promise to you, everything will turn out to be as good as it once was - no, even better! We shall be happy together again!"

"I pray it will, my dear.", Dís whispered to herself, praying with all her heart the fates would mean well with her family this time, and not bring even more sorrow to her and her beloved ones.


	71. Third Moon of Autumn 2873

_Final countdown to Drakosterban Arc! :D 2 of 3! Quick releases to the end!_

* * *

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Autumn 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

"What sorcery is this - _you _already up Balin? Why, it is not even lunch time yet!", Dwalin joked as his elder brother stepped out of the tent, blinking at the first day light, mumbling dozily, "Aahhhh, Dwalin, the sooner we get up-"

"_-the sooner we can ride for home_.", Bofur finished the white-haired dwarf's now almost proverbial sentence grinning, adding another sausage to the pan before cutting the bread to roast it.

Haha, very funny!", Balin huffed, insulted by the mild mockery, and went down to the river to wash himself. He was angry with his little brother for sharing any story he could remeeber of his elder brother with the company to amuse them, feigning innocence at his brother's wrath - the sooner they arrived at the Ered Luin so he could have his peace and quiet again, the better!

The river's water was no longer refreshing but cold as ice in the morning, and Balin longed to be home, where one cold wash in warm, soapy waters and dry off with towels _not_ infested with lice or falling apart from mold and dirt.

Dain had been generous, and let them take one fifth of Fain's treasure, as to feed and cloth themselves - and the many dwarfs who chose to join them on their long journey back to the Ered Luin. Only a handful of dwarf dared to follow Dain to the Iron Hills; for even if they admired the strength and armor of his warriors, the face of the young dwarf king was too alike his brother's, and not few dwarfs ran screaming from him, as he let himself be carried through the former slaves' camp to greet them.

The farther west they came, the more food and supplies they were able to buy – but to feed almost two hundred dwarfs and organized their journey was a tiresome task as Balin found, and he longed to rest and sleep the whole day through, without any baby brother's teasing him!

"Ah, you are also awake Mister Balin? Would you like some tea?", Dori greeted Balin politely as he returned, pouring tea into a chipped gold rimmed cup he had somehow managed to obtain, as he was intend to serve upon his majesty with all due diligence, even in the wilderness.

Grateful the white-haired dwarf accepted the warm drink, even if his was handed him only in a tin cup, "Thank you Dori. Have you seen our greatest of all leader? I swear to you, if this dwarf does one more time forget to-"

"_What did I forget Balin_?", the accused dwarf calmly inquired from behind Balin's back, returning from his short visit to the larger part of their camp just in time to catch his friend's sarcastic remark.

Dwalin, Bofur and Dori were almost proud of their friend, seeing how Balin barely flinched at being caught red-handed badmouthing their king. The white-haired dwarf only coughed a bit, before nonchalantly turning his head at Thorin, explaining himself, "I was_ merely_ pointing out, that I would rather _not_ carry the ashes of my king all the way back to the Ered Luin, to explain how he died peacefully after all enemies had been defeat – therefore, I would appreciate you not setting yourself on fire, by forgetting a candle burning in your tent as you sleep, my dear friend."

"As was not asleep. I left the candle on, for I planed to read some more later on.", Thorin corrected his friend, not showing the least gratitude, as he still was cross with him for their argument two months ago.

Annoyed the other dwarf snapped back, "You were dead asleep Thorin- did you even noticed I finished your calculation?"

"Ah, I was wondering where these odd mistakes were coming from!"

"I - I am never making mistakes when calculating! I always proof-read all you reports- you are the one who is inable to count!"

The three younger dwarfs excitedly watched the calm argument between the two friends, expecting them to break out in a fight at any moment, disappointed when the arrival of Bombur, Gloin, Oin and Bifur ended Balin's and Thorin's discussion.

"Hey, you started without us- you promised to wait for our return Bofur!", Bombur lamented, seeing how his brother was already having breakfast. In a flash he tied up the goods he bought at the market and grabbed a plate, eating with all his heart and mouth before Bofur had even finished loading his plate. Oin and Gloin hurried to follow his lead, fighting over the last piece of roasted bread as if they had not eaten in years.

"I saw it first!"

"I can't hear you and IT IS MINE!"

"IT'S MINE! HAND IT BACK! JUST CAUSE YOU CAN'T DOESN'T MEAN YOU GET ALL THE BREAD!"

"Guys, guys, there's enough for- WOHA! Hey! Did you try to steal MY food?!", Bofur hollered and jumped up to protect the sausages on his plate from Bombur's quick fingers, both glad and worried to see his brother's appetite return ferociously. Soon they would have to look for a sturdier pony, as Bombur seemed intent to regain his former proportions - and maybe even go beyond them!

Whilst the brown-haired dwarf was still yelling at his brother, Nori quietly walked up to him and sneaked the sausages onto his and Bifur's plate, sharing them alike, their friendship from the Grey Mountains still strong.

Dwalin grinned broadly, waiting for his friend Bofur to notice the theft, whilst Thorin wisely chose to ignore his company's internal struggle sipping his tea, seeing how he would only waste his time to settle one argument,whilst another one started.

"Gloin, what are you hiding? Oh no, not again! Let me see this- what did that charlatan give you!? Another 'hair restorter'?", Oin demanded, annoyed to find his brother buying ointment from a men healer.

"It's MINE, and YOU do NOT have to CARE for THIS!", Gloin overemphasized, quickly hiding the small, suspicious jar he had bought in his vast pockets.

"It might be dangerous!", the grey-haired healer insisted, holding out his hand to his brother to hand the medicine over; but Gloin was just as stubborn as him and crossed his arms, glowering at his elder brother, shouting, "YOU can't DO ANYTHING RIGHT! YOU made THIS only WORSE!"

Gloin pointed at his beard, who was but a sad remnant of the formerly glorious, fiery red beard the young dwarf had been carrying.

One fine day, Gloin had climbed a tree to plunder a bird's nest, and got his whole beard stuck in a particularly large lump of resin; all advices had proven useless, when Oin misunderstood Dwalin's idea of warming the resin up... In order to safe the poor dwarf from severe burns, Bofur cut his beard of to free him as the fire spread – and Gloin solely blamed his brother for the loss of his beard and the loss of his inamorata too, who surely would not ever accept his courting now, seeing how he was **_beardless_**!

"What did I do? I do not understand what you are saying?", Oin asked surprised, cupping his ears as to help his hearing.

"YOU KNOW BLODDY WELL WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!"

"I do what?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT!"

"KNOW WHAT?"

"**_They drank my tea_**!", Dori suddenly cried out, enraged pointing at Bifur and Dwalin who serenely shrugged and continued through their breakfast, not partaking in the turmoil surrounding them.

"Your majesty- these, these _plebs_ are drinking your tea! This is outrageous!", Dori cried, urging the king to intervene and take part.

"_Tastes like Warg piss anyway_.", the tall dwarf mumbled into his cup, smirking when Dori got even madder at him, screaming on top of his lungs, "YOU ARE A DISGRACE! NO MANNERS! YOU- YO- YOU NOT VERY WELL RAISED PERSON!"

Slowly, Dwalin put down his cup, clenching his tattooed hands as he got up, towering the smaller, white-haired dwarf, growling at him, "You insult my mother?"

Dori's face turned as white as his hair seeing the huge dwarf come at him, "No-no no not at all! Your mother was a wonderful person, certainly, most wonderful- Aaah! Donothitmeplease!"

"IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY SAUSAGES!"

"WHAT IS MY FAULT?""

Watching the company argue and yell at each other, Balin rolled his eyes at the clear autumn sky above, complaining softly to Thorin, "How swell... Now we have a mute, a deaf, an over polite, a gluttonous, a thievish, a brutal, a vain and a dally dwarf in our company... and eight bloody morons between them. All of our pain and troubles – for_ them_? Arguing since we left the Grey Mountains!"

Looking at the horde of dwarf chasing each other round the campfire, fighting over food and vanities, Thorin could not help but laugh and agree with his friend, slowly accepting his losses, as well as his gains, seeing how Dain's word held some truth. "For them Balin, anything is worth the trouble- and for you too, my friend!"


	72. Third Moon of Autumn 2873, part 2

_**King on the mountain**_

* * *

_**The Story of Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and how it all began. Covering years 2871-2941.  
**_

* * *

_**~ Third Moon of Autumn 2873 ~  
**_

* * *

**"The king has returned!"**

**"To the king's safe return!"**

**"To the king!"**

**"TO OUR KING THORIN OAKENSHIELD!"**

The dwarfs shouted to their king, and cheered as loud the glasses on the tables trembled and feel over.

Whilst Thorin found their voices to be neither as numerous, nor as strong as those of Dain's people, he could see the feast they had prepared to honor him was more splendid and pompous than anything the Iron Hills had ever seen - or ever would see, as the pride of the Ered Luin dwarfs had it.

Three days after Thorin, his company and 183 dwarfs had come home, entering the Ered Luin through the main gate, everybody had gathered for an enormous feast, the tears of reuinions not tried yet; though as for many families, there were only tears of grief, as their beloved ones would not return ever from the cold, harsh Ered Mithrin.

Surrounded by his family and friends, the mountain king wonder if he ever would loath these mountains again, residing unhappy within his halls. Certainly, he would feel more at ease now - for had he not fulfilled his quest, and returned hundreds of dwarfs to their homes? The crown seemed to be not as heavy as it had been, and hearing laughter and joy filling the Ered Luin, seeing his family clad in beautiful dresses and adorned with jewels, overjoyed at his safe return - how could one not rejoice?

Happily clinging to his uncle's arm, Fili excitedly inquired, "Did you get the letters uncle Thorin?"

"Letters?", the black-haired dwarf mumbled absent-mindedly, frowning as he watched his sister talk to her husband on the other side of the hall, obviously distressed.

"Our_ letters!_ We wrote you at least – uh, at least five – no, at least ten!", Fili exaggerated and glowered at Kili who proudly added, "And** I** wrote most of them – but Fili did help a bit too! **_Ouch!_** Why did you hit me Fili? That hurt!"

"_You _can not even write your own name properly – it was me who wrote all of them! You just were nagging and annoying me the whole time!"

"It is not true!"

"It is! You can not hold a quill properly even!"

"You are _lying_! I can hold a quill, I can! And I can write my name!"

"You CAN'T!"

"I CAN!"

Thorin smiled patiently, and hoped his nephews forgot about their inquiry over their quarrel, as he recalled his faithful promise to write – a promise he had started neglecting months ago, and eventually forgot about it, as his conciousness reminded him scolding.

Seeing his sister leave the feast, Thorin decided to hurry after her, relieved to leave Fili and Kili to themselves for a moment and to speak to his sister, who had welcomed him heartily, but with a strange sadness in her eyes.

* * *

He found her standing alone on a balcony, wrapped in a coat of fur, looking sadly at the cold, dark country spreading towards the east - had she been crying?

"Dís? Dear sister, what is troubling you?", the black-haired dwarf asked gently, as he wrapped an arm round the dwarf woman's waist, smiling at her.

Startled by Thorin's sudden appearance, Dís quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, forcing herself to sound cheerful, "Oh brother - let us not speak of this and that now! Today is the day to celebrate your safe return to us, and with so many of our people – let us be merry! Forgive my silliness! It is nothing!"

"No grief of yours shall ever be silly to me, my dear Dís – and how shall I be happy, if I know there are things causing my little sister sadness? What is the matter, dear sister? Do tell me, I am begging you!"

The blond dwarf woman smiled and closed her eyes, feeling like the little girl again who used to run to the elder brother crying, excepting him to know the cure to all sadness and hurt.

"I had thought, I am now grown-up and strong to stand tall for myself – and see me, here I am yet again, crying in my brother's arms. Oh Thorin, what a silly little sister you have!"

"I have the loveliest little sister any brother could wish for- and I do wish for her to smile and be happy, always.", the black-haired dwarf said earnestly, placing a kiss on Dís forehead.

"Brother...", the dwarf woman sighed, resting her head against Thorin's chest plate of silver and gold, created for the victorious king on short notice, "Many bad things did happen whilst you were gone, and often, I am the one to blame for lives lost and damaged caused – I am afraid you will be much angered, hearing these tales!"

"You know Dís, I could never be mad with you. Please, do tell me, what are refering too? What did happen?", Thorin chuckled, but all his good-humor and merriness from the feast soon left his mind, as Dís told him of the things taking place whilst he was on his quest to the Grey Mountains, grievous, evil things.

* * *

The moon had come up long, and the wide land stretching to the horizon did not seem as dreadful as it had before, when it lay dark and dead; but still, neither one of the siblings looked upon it with any joy.

"Oh sister, all these things... So this is why Bifur is avoiding me? For his son and wife has been banished?... And Efli... he is truly leaving the Ered Luin? Fili and Kili- they do not know of this yet, I assume?"

Dís nodded sadly, holding her brother's hand as they stood close to the balustrade, "Efli has not told them, and I am afraid of the day when he will- they are so young, they will not understand! Oh, how could they ever! For a father to leave his children - or to lose them! Poor Bifur! Oh brother, what have I done!"

Thorin held his sister close as she wept, shaken by the sorrow he had caused – had his quest been worth the cost? Seeing the damage caused by his leaving, he stood not as certain as he had before.

"I am sorry my dear sister, I have caused you grief, a grief I may not ever allay...But please, please, let me try to undo what has been done! I placed a burden on you which was mine to carry... But I promise you, I will not leave again- I will stay under the mountain, and be a good king to my people, and make the Ered Luin my home – for you and our family, our friends, our people! I will pardon Bifur's son, and return him to his home - and together, we will make this a home to live in, for all times."

Dís smiled sadly, shaking her head, "Oh brother, I know the Ered Luinnever will be a home to you... To you, the Erebor-"

Thorin quickly placed a finger on his sister's lips, hushing her, "Dís, please, do allow me to be a good king, a good brother! Allow me to undo my wrongs - and do not sacrifice your own happiness for a duty you were never meant to carry! I became king of the Ered Luin, and I have shamed myself! Let me prove my own worth, and maybe, I even will..."

The black-haired dwarf sighed heavily, and looked down at the tall main gate keeping the Ered Luin safe from all intruders.

No, he could not bring himself to say he might ever forget his true home - even if he wished to, as only bitterness came from his longing.

"Brother- you will truly stay? You will not leave again?", the blond dwarf woman asked hopeful, her golden eyes bright in the moonlight.

Thorin nodded, staring at the distant lands he would not ride again - ever.

"Dís, I promise I will stay here and protect you, your family and our people. I will built great halls, and strong forts, new homes -grand homes, and bigger tunnels, and deeper mines, and of course we will need to increase- what? Why are you laughing sister? What is so funny?"

Amused, the dwarf woman hugged her brother, smiling happily, "Oh dear brother, I am merely glad, glad to see how you truly have returned,making plans so big, so grand – plans for... a home. But let us return to the feast, as everybody certainly will be worried you might have ridden away my dear brother, to free another people, or slay a dragon!"

"If you keep on teasing me, I might as well ride again!", the mountain king cried laughing as he ran to catch up with his sister, just like they used to in the halls of his father, forgetting if just for a moment this was not the home of his childhood days.

* * *

_**The End of Drakosterban Arc**_

Thank you so much for reading, reviewing and encouraging! ^_^

King under the Mountain will be on hiatus until the first week of September, when the story goes on -

hoping to see you all again in the **_Thorin's Hall Arc_**!

Thank you for the patience, love and fun!

Have a lovely, fun summer! Cookies and hugs to all! :D

Yours sincerely,

Matty


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